


Hurricane Isabelle

by AgentArcherDragon



Category: Agent Carter (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:41:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 48,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27416671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentArcherDragon/pseuds/AgentArcherDragon
Summary: Isabelle Bennet is one of Earth's mightiest heroes until an accident during a mission leaves her stranded in the 1940's. With no way home, she joins Peggy and the SSR on their adventures.
Relationships: Avengers Team & Original Female Character(s), Jack Thompson (Marvel)/Original Female Character(s), Peggy Carter/Daniel Sousa
Comments: 9
Kudos: 22





	1. The Hero Died, So What's The Movie For?

**Author's Note:**

> Hey I'm Trixie, I had this idea during lockdown and have decided why not just write it. It's my first fic so hope you enjoy it. It's rated Teen and up because of some fight scenes but if you've seen The Avengers movies and Agent Carter it's basically what's in that but without all the cool cgi and stunts. My main character's powers are a bit of a mix of Captain Marvel and Quake and I used the finale of Agents of Shield Season 7 fight sequence as inspiration for the big moment in this chapter because it was awesome.  
> Anyways, enough babble. Hope you like the story, feedback is totally welcome.  
> Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers only my OC, Isabelle. And all my chapter titles belong to Taylor Swift.

Champagne was flowing and a cheesy pop song was blaring from a nearby speaker. For the first time in a very long time Isabelle felt content, sipping on her drink surveying the party from her spot on the bar. Normally she’d have been out on the dance floor busting a move, but after a strenuous mission sitting cross-legged on the bar sipping a cocktail was actually quite a nice place to be. The alcohol ran warm in her veins and the music numbed her aching soul. A distinctive smashing sound broke her out of her reverie and a snicker caused her to turn, catching one of her closest friends inconspicuously trying to hide the packet of m and m’s they’d been using as missiles seeing who they could hit in the bustling party crowds  
‘Nice aim Hawk’  
The guilty party winked reaching out a hand and with the quirk of an eyebrow the avenger accepted.  
‘Well you know me Bells, I never miss, must say you look really good tonight, did you do something to your hair?’ Clint replied as he led his teammate out onto the dance floor.  
‘I brushed it, you should try it sometime Katniss. How’s the wound?’  
‘Katniss seriously, actually no I’ll take that she’s pretty cool? The side’s a little achey won’t lie, I’m sure it never used to hurt this much, getting shot I mean, not you stepping on my toes dancing.’  
‘You’re just getting old and my dancing is not that bad.’  
‘Oh ha ha. You won’t be in your 20’s forever you know, one day you’ll be just like me’  
‘Keep dreaming Clint, I have superpowers and treat my body like a temple, I’m practically a goddess’  
‘Whatever you say kid’  
It was nights like this when Isabelle truly felt like she belonged. Hanging out with her team, joking and dancing. When Phil Coulson had recruited her for SHIELD all those years ago, she hadn’t been sure, but gradually she had begun to put down roots and now she felt like she’d found a place in the world. 

The tricky thing about happiness though is that it can be lost as suddenly as a candle being blown out or grow gradually as the autumnal colours on trees. 

In a matter of days, the seams keeping the Avengers together were fraying and sitting in the quin jet preparing for battle Isabelle knew deep in her heart that nothing would ever be the same. She could hear Steve making a hero speech, but the words sounded muffled like she was sitting underwater, she tried to clear her mind and ready herself for the worst part of her job. Taking down arms dealers and monsters and animalistic humans, making the world better, was what being a hero was about; but the risk to civilians, knowing that they could be hurt in the attempt to save lives, it never sat well with her. Many nights she had spent sitting with Tony in his lab discussing the topic. She only knew that she’d save innocents by any means necessary - even if it came at a personal cost.

The battle was long, every fibre of her being ached but this was what she was good at. Out on the floating streets of Sokovia (this was a first) battling evil robots, Inferno, her avenger alias truly made a difference. Inferno was much admired but slightly feared. With the ability to manipulate the elements specifically fire and earth Isabelle or Inferno was one of the most powerful avengers equal to, or on a good day maybe more so than Thor. Today however, little did she know, would be her final mission alongside her team; the last time she’d see her little dysfunctional family for a very long time. The city was rising, higher and higher, if they didn’t figure out a way to bring it down safely soon then mass destruction on the ground below would be certain and suffocation up in the clouds would be unavoidable. A successful evacuation of the city was underway and Fury had brought in reinforcements to help escort the civilians to safety. Seeing the helicarrier against the endless clouds Isabelle couldn’t help the swell of pride that had filled her, this was why she joined, because SHIELD and her powers they could save lives. Together. Hopefully it would be enough.

Over comms a plan was being formed, a way to stop Ultron from using Sokovia as a replica of the dinosaur killing meteor, Tony was saying about blowing the city to kingdom come and with everyone almost on the helicarrier the moment was rapidly approaching.  
“Izzy, I’m gonna need you back at the Church” Tony’s voice ordered.  
Turning to Steve she got the clarification she needed that everyone was on the carriers before Tony warned, “If this works, there’s a chance we don’t walk away.”  
Taking a deep breath as she began moving towards the church Isabelle responded with as much stability in her voice as she could muster, “I know. But if I go through with this then I die, if I don’t then we all do. There’s no choice to make Tony, just say the word. The Kree used to call me ‘The Destroyer of Worlds’, well that’s who I need to be now.”

Running towards the Church the ground suddenly shuddered and began to plummet downwards sending Isabelle flying forwards scraping her palms and knees on the gravely ruins of Sokovia. Pushing ahead she took her place standing in the centre of the Church. Slowly she began quaking the ground gradually building towards full strength, waiting for Tony’s cue.  
“Izzy, on my mark” Tony’s voice resounded in her ear as she felt fire run through her veins towards her hands as she quaked stronger, it felt like a million bees were swarming through lava in her body, but she was ready, “NOW!!!”

On the command she grabbed the core and taking a deep breath threw her head back and arms out. Power emanating from every inch of her body, fire and seismic waves of a colossal magnitude were sent out in every direction. Around her the city exploded. Cracking and crumbling.

Sokovia was no more.

The helicarrier further up in the sky than the city that had just been tumbling, shook violently as a seismic blast reached it, but remained intact and safe. Standing near the edge Steve, with Vision and the Maximoff girl at his side, watched the disintegrating city fall. Tony in his suit would be able to manoeuvre out of the rubble, but in his heart, he knew that shy of a miracle, there was no conceivable way Isabelle would have survived the destruction she had just caused.

Smouldering pieces of rubble that once formed Sokovia fell like hail to the ground below. Amidst the shards of glass, broken bricks and pieces of stone Isabelle’s body tumbled, a leaf caught in the wind, down towards the expanse of water that had lain undisturbed far below the Sokovian landmass. Barely conscious Isabelle sent out a feeble shockwave in hopes of breaking her fall, expecting a splash of water to come. 

But it never did.

Instead a blinding light and a soft thud resulted, with Isabelle’s head colliding unexpectedly with a grass verge. A group of men in 1940’s style green outfits running towards her was the last thing she registered before the pain overwhelmed her and Isabelle Bennet, Agent of Shield, Avenger, Destroyer of Worlds, succumbed to the darkness.


	2. The Water Filled My Lungs, I Screamed So Loud But No One Heard A Thing

People aren’t meant to be pretty when they break. They don’t fall gracefully like snow, or come apart simply like a jigsaw ready to be put together again. Instead they’re more like a smashed window, scattered in pieces, fragments of who they once were. Six weeks had passed since the battle against Ultron, six weeks since Isabelle Bennet had fallen and landed in a post-war Sokovia almost 70 years before she’d blown it apart. Six long weeks and Isabelle had never felt so lost.

The Howling Commandos had been completing a recon mission in Sokovia, staking out a possible Hydra base when they’d been blinded by a flash of light and witnessed a woman falling from the sky. Upon approach they discovered she was unconscious and slightly smoking with several injuries and a very bizarre jumpsuit and pair of gauntlets on her arms. Unsure of where she’d come from or who she was the Howling Commandos collectively agreed to get her the medical attention she required and stick close to learn more about her.

A week after she had landed, Isabelle awoke.

Itchy sheets in a starch hospital white covered her sore limbs and the roof above her head was more in keeping with a field hospital than the high-tech facility she was accustomed to back home at Stark Tower. Her training kicked in along with a healthy dose of paranoia. Surveilling her surroundings Isabelle eased herself out of the bed, ready to learn more about where she was when someone entered. Ducking down behind a medicine cabinet she watched as the man approached the bed she’d vacated moments before, eyeing the gun in a holster at his side she reached the conclusion that they must be a threat and leapt into action in spite of her screaming muscles. The scuffle was quick and despite the height and weight advantage he possessed within seconds Isabelle had him pinned, his gun now in her hand. Something about his face was familiar but she couldn’t pinpoint it. His eyes perhaps? A voice in the back of her head laughed and the voice of her good friend Trip came to the forefront of her thoughts. 

“Release him and put your hands over your head”  
Behind Isabelle the sound of a gun clicked as she slowly got to her feet, eyes never leaving the man on the floor. Swinging her leg up as she turned Isabelle kicked the gun out of the large man behind her’s hand and sent a vibration out, throwing the man beside him onto a bed on the opposite side of the ward. Aiming the gun in her hand back at the man on the floor his uniform finally registered and the connection between him and her friend Trip clicked.  
A lump formed in Isabelle’s throat as she studied the faces of the three men in the room. Recognising them from photographs and the Smithsonian exhibit. It shouldn’t be possible. Warily keeping an eye on the men around her, Isabelle grabbed her medical chart from the end of her bed, and upon reading the date collapsed onto the stiff mattress and returned the firearm to it’s owner.

‘March 1946’

The three Howling Commandos approached her slowly, wary of what she might do next. Dugan took charge and began to introduce himself only to be interrupted.  
“I know who you are. You’re the Howling Commando’s. Where am I?” Isabelle’s voice held a slight tremor but her eyes were sparkling with fierceness and curiosity.  
“Field hospital in Europe, 30 miles north of Sokovia. We brought you here after you fell from the sky, wanna tell us who you are and what happened to you?” Dugan inquired sitting next to her on the small bed, the others staying standing facing them.  
“My name is Isabelle Bennet… erm I think… no… where are my things, that will help.”  
Following a nod from Dugan, Junior Juniper the younger of the other two commandos with her, picked up a small duffel bag in which her suit, boots, mask and gauntlets had been placed. With steady hands Isabelle unzipped an inner pocket of her suit and pulled out an envelope of photographs and her SHIELD identification badge. Holding the badge out to Dugan she spoke out loud what she’d been so desperately trying to deny.

“I think I’ve travelled back in time.”

From that moment the Howling Commandos took her under their wing and she quickly adapted to how they worked. Out in the wilds of Europe Isabelle found it easier to ignore the truth that was eating away like a plague in the pit of her stomach, there was probably no way home. Dugan, eagerly nicknamed her once she was recovered and helping out, informing her that you couldn’t be a part of their team without some moniker. Hence her now being affectionately referred to as Firebird by the Commandos. Isabelle was loathe to admit it but the name was slowly growing on her, she preferred Inferno, but she had been called far worse in the past.  


Six weeks ago, Isabelle was an Avenger, living and fighting in the 21st century with a team who were practically her family and her biological family across the Atlantic but still only a phone call away. Now, stuck in 1946, she was trying to adapt but praying that some miracle would send her home. She felt utterly alone despite being constantly surrounded.

However, that was about to change. Dugan had informed them that the Peggy Carter and the SSR required a tact team to hopefully locate the elusive Howard Stark (a current fugitive of justice) and a few of them would be providing assistance. So, six weeks after landing in the 1940’s, Isabelle was setting off with ‘Dum Dum’ Dugan, ‘Happy Sam’ Sawyer, ‘Pinky’ Pinkerton and ‘Junior’ Juniper to the Polish border to help out. Isabelle knew that if Stark was anything like Tony then he was the key, to understanding how she got here in the first place and if there was a way back.  
First though, a mission: Find Howard Stark.


	3. Wind In My Hair, I Was There.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place during Season 1 Episode 5 : The Iron Ceiling.

Poland, near the Russian border, was cold. A biting wind was seeping through Isabelle’s clothes and chilling her bones as her and the boys waited near the rendezvous site for Peggy and the SSR agents to arrive. Isabelle had been in these situations a million times before while working with SHIELD and the Avengers, and she hated it. Patience was a virtue she did not possess, growing up as a middle child had meant that if she didn’t grab something head on, she’d be overlooked and it’d never happen. Thus waiting – not her forte. 

A rustle of leaves and the sound of footsteps alerted them to approaching individuals. A group of four burst through the tree line, 3 men and a dark-haired woman. Peggy. Dugan was taking point for the Howling Commando’s so started to move forward from his position under cover. The sudden noise change had the SSR team on guard and Isabelle noticed how they automatically raised their weapons, ready to defend themselves if necessary. A good instinct, but she wasn’t as surprised as she might have been for these were trained federal agents who served in the war. This might actually be fun.  
‘’Don’t move. Emu.” Dugan’s voice echoed through the clearing and the three men looked positively bewildered.  
“Emu”  
“Ostrich.” Pinky Pinkerton’s voice spoke after Dugan’s. To nobody’s surprise they had messed up the codeword. Isabelle considered that Dugan was probably joking around and from where she stood it seemed Peggy Carter was thinking the same thing.  
“Carter, Dugan’s forgotten the password again.” Pinky complained.  
Walking forwards, like a vision, the Brit lowered her teammates weapon and standing in the light Isabelle got her first full look at the Agent Peggy Carter. She had heard so many stories about her from so many people to actually be standing in front of her, Isabelle was a little awestruck.  
“The password is Eagle you apes.”  
Her accent jolted Isabelle, it was so crisp but also reminded her of home. It wasn’t often that, especially when stationed in the states, people had a British accent like her but here was Peggy Carter a fellow Brit.  
The team walked forward so the clearing was full as Dugan welcomed them. The look of admiration on the SSR agents faces was a familiar one for Isabelle, she’d seen people look at Steve with the same face many a time, and it always made her smile. Introductions were quickly made.  
“Jack Thompson, Mike Lee, Rick Ramirez this is ‘Junior’ Juniper, ‘Pinky’ Pinkerton, ‘Happy Sam’ Sawyer, Isabelle ‘Firebird’ Bennet, you seem to know ‘Dum Dum’ Dugan, the 107th. Out tactical team.” 

Hearing Peggy Carter introduce her sent shivers down Isabelle’s spine, glancing at the Brit she smiled. There’s something about having your heroes know who you are tricky to explain but so satisfying. Isabelle assumed Dugan must have filled Peggy in when she called, and for that Isabelle was grateful, it made it a thousand times less awkward than having to introduce herself. While the introductions were still being made Isabelle allowed herself to get a proper look at the three agents Peggy had brought with her. Mike Lee and Rick Ramirez looked like average office workers, but working with agents like Melinda May over the years had taught Isabelle that appearances could be deceiving, so she hoped they could hold themselves in a fight. The third man held himself with a confidence that felt familiar to Isabelle, reminding her largely of Tony and how he’d hide his fears behind a bravado. Sunlight hit the agents face, illuminating his features and Isabelle felt her breath catch. There was no denying this man, Thompson she recalls Peggy saying, was gorgeous. His hair slicked back looked almost golden and his jaw looked as if the gods had spent time carving it to get it chiselled. A strange feeling was suddenly present in Isabelle’s stomach – something that could almost be described as butterflies if she were a giggling fifteen-year-old girl, which she was not. Her musings were interrupted by someone mentioning Captain America and looking up she caught Dugan’s eye.

Maybe it was foolish, butterfly effect and all, but when Isabelle had told the Howling Commando’s she was from the future she had shown the few photos she always kept on her person when in her tactical gear. Steve was present in a few of them – in his Captain America uniform in a clipping she’d cut out of a newspaper post Chitauri invasion, the first photo of the team together, and another of the two of them laughing with Sam, covered in tinsel and fairy lights at her parents last Christmas. They knew she had worked with Steve, knew him well, trusted him completely. It was part of the reason they took to her so quickly. A friend of Steve’s was a friend of theirs.

With the pleasantries over it was time to get to business and the blond Isabelle had been admiring, sorry observing, stepped forward taking charge.  
“Agent Jack Thompson. Running point for the SSR. We head due east until we hit the border.” His voice commanded authority but Isabelle knew immediately that it wasn’t a good plan and so for the first time since they’d met, she spoke.  
“We’ll hit a wall of red’s before we reach the border. Let’s head up into Lithuania, cross over into Russia at Ashmyany.”  
Thompson turned, looking directly at Isabelle, properly seeing her for the first time since they’d arrived. He’d be a liar if he said he didn’t think she was attractive, but the last thing he needed was another liability, he hadn’t wanted Carter here and now there were two women he had to worry about. Firebird. It sparked a bit of curiosity in him though. He wondered who she was and why the nickname. He supposed it was the hair, slightly ginger, in the sun looked a bit like it was alight. She intrigued him.  
Quirking an eyebrow at her, he responded “You planning on walking halfway across Lithuania?”  
Isabelle could barely supress the smile. “Well you can if you want.” Looking Thompson straight in the eye she brushed past him knowing full well he’d turn. “But me, I’m taking these.”  
With a dramatic flourish, because why the hell not, Isabelle pushed the tree line back, revealing two trucks. A soft whistle was heard from one of the agents behind her and beside her Dugan called to Peggy, as she jumped up into the front of one of the vehicles.

Peggy liked Isabelle immediately.  
Anyone who didn’t mind telling Thompson he was wrong and could leave three federal agents speechless in one fell swoop was impressive in her book. Sitting in the back of the truck with Dugan she shared a drink and caught him up on the Stark case. She was still angry at Howard for lying to her about Steve’s blood but she knew he was innocent and she’d be damned if she let her friend hang for a crime he didn’t commit. But Isabelle. Dugan had mentioned her when she’d called, but Peggy didn’t know much, now was a time to use her interrogation skills and get some answers about the English brunette with the cheeky grin.  
“Who is she?”  
“Isabelle. It’s slightly complicated Pegs.” Dugan would be honest he didn’t know a great deal about his new friend, only that she was from the future, had extensive battle training, somehow knew Steve Rogers, always had a witty comeback. Oh, and she had superpowers. He figured he’d leave out about Steve, let her tell Peggy herself her connection to the Captain.  
So, in the back of the truck, Peggy Carter got the rundown on the driver and how she’d quite literally fallen into the Howling Commando’s lives, and when they stopped for the night, was even more impressed and intrigued with Miss Isabelle Bennet than she had been upon starting the journey.

That night, with the moon in the sky and the fire burning well, courtesy of Isabelle though that need not be public knowledge, the group ate and shared stories and jokes, laughing at Pinky’s story when Junior and Agent Thompson returned from their patrol. Peggy lightly teased the youngest Commando about a yeti he’d seen and the conversation quickly turned to war stories. Isabelle leaned back, with no tales she could share she was intent on listening and upon hearing the tale of the Navy Cross, quickly decided there was more to Thompson than just confidence and attractiveness, she just couldn’t put her finger on what it was.


	4. I Think I've Seen This Film Before, And I Didn't Like The Ending.

Morning dawned bright and early with the team gearing up before moving out of their camp so they could hit the ground running when they reached their final destination. Wrapping bandages around her wrists to provide support should she need to use her powers, having decided her gauntlets were too conspicuous, Isabelle could feel a pair of eyes boring into her back. Buckling her tactical belt Isabelle turned catching Peggy eyeing her. Raising her eyebrow Peggy divulged what was eating away at her.  
“Isabelle, where’s your weapon?”  
Before Isabelle could reply, Dugan cut across “Peg’s I told you, Izzy IS the weapon. Give her a gun and she might as well go solo.”

Being the mature adult she is, Isabelle stuck her tongue out at Dugan before shrugging her shoulders and moving towards the trucks to check everything was good to go. Behind her she could hear Lee and Ramirez’s questions. It’s hard not to chuckle, the 1940’s are similar in many ways to where she’s from, but the difference in equal rights is shocking. No-one doubted Isabelle was capable back home, even before her powers became public knowledge, they trusted her to get the job done. The Howling Commando’s treated her with the same respect but these new guys, she didn’t get how Peggy was so well composed especially given the fact, that according to Dugan, she was treated like a secretary. The sound of footsteps behind her caused her to look round only to find Agent Thompson walking over, he had a look on her face she couldn’t quite decipher. When he reached her he held out a gun for her to take.  
“I don’t need it.”  
“That might be what you think Bennet, but I’m leading this mission, you’re carrying it. Don’t think of arguing. We go in there and get ambushed my conscience will be eased knowing you have the means to defend yourself.”  
His tone was mildly patronising, and he felt himself recoil under the intense stare she provided him with. But, to his surprise Isabelle accepted the weapon warning him that she had no intention of needing it before walking away leaving him staring at her retreating back with a feeling in his heart he’d never experienced before.

Standing near what looked like a large warehouse the team prepped for infiltration. Agent Thompson had proposed four small teams only to be overruled in favour of two larger teams. Discretion and safety being favoured over speed. The moment they entered Isabelle had a feeling in her gut that something was off about the operation, or maybe it was the place itself. Her suspicions were confirmed when bringing up the rear she followed Peggy, Dugan, Junior and Lee into a classroom.  
“Does anybody feel a chill going up their knickers?” Peggy’s voice questioned from the other side of a desk.  
“It would if I wore knickers.” Junior counteracted as Isabelle had a hunch where they were.

_Lila Barton had insisted that Auntie Nat and Auntie Bells use her room while they stayed there after the catastrophic events of Ultron. So, Natasha Romanoff, master assassin and spy sat opposite Isabelle on a twin-sized bed with a mattress covered in unicorns in a five-year-old’s bedroom with barbies and teddies littering the floor. Neither of them had spoken to each other about the events of the past day since leaving the quin jet but in a shocking surprise Natasha broke the silence.  
‘I was back at the Red Room…in the visions Maximoff put in my head… I was being trained, prepared, indoctrinated… I thought I was past that.”  
Isabelle looked up from the thread in her jeans that she’d been playing with and studied her friends face. Natasha was often stoic, never showing how she truly felt. Isabelle was one of the very few people she was honest with.  
“What was it like? The red room, I know you don’t like talking about it but…”  
The question up in there, the answer came crashing down on Isabelle._

In the distance a child crying could be heard and with a plummeting sensation in her stomach, Isabelle knew it was too late. They’d walked right into a trap. This facility they’d come to was a Red Room. Here was a place where little girls were trained to become Black Widow’s just like Natasha.  
“That’s a kid crying, what’s a kid doing in this place?” Agent Lee questioned as the team headed off in search of the little girl, ignoring Isabelle’s pleas to turn back. Not much scared her, she’d been through and survived a lot but she didn’t think she’d be able to kill a little girl even if she knew how dangerous they’d become.  
With her warnings falling on deaf ears things quickly took a turn for the worst. Before anyone knew it, Dugan had been stabbed, luckily his vest took the brunt, and Junior had been shot, and the little girl who was hardly more than 10 had disappeared into the remainder of the building.

“What happened?” Agent Thompson and the rest of his team entered the dormitory with their weapons drawn, having heard the gunshot.  
Isabelle walked away from the vent she’d just watched the little assassin scurry down, turning to Thompson. “There’s a good chance Leviathan have been alerted to our presence.”  
Looking down to Junior who was bleeding out on the floor, and at Peggy crouching beside him Thompson realised just how treacherous this mission was. In his gut he considered that more of them could be leaving in body bags before the day was out.  
“We’ve come too far to turn back now.” The mission still had to be completed.  
Peggy watched Dugan remove the dog-tags from junior’s neck before responding.  
“We can’t leave until we know who’s setting Howard up. Dugan, Pinky, Ramirez, find a back route out of here. The rest, come with me.”

The Red Room had a lot of corridors. A lot. It was a labyrinth of cold stone and creepy hallways. Isabelle understood why Natasha still had nightmares about this place, and they weren’t even being subjected to the brutal training regimes.  
Turning a corner, Happy Sam fired two gunshots taking out what appeared to be guards, who were standing watch outside a cell. The team approached and discovered two, slightly peaky, men inside. Prisoners. The older of the two men, slightly balding came up to the bars and spoke perfect English with a thick Russian accent.  
“You’re not Leviathan. Who are you?”  
Beside her Isabelle heard Peggy speak. “We’re the good guys,” but Isabelle couldn’t help but feel that there was something familiar about the Russian man. Perhaps from an old case file she’d read. Inquisitiveness took hold as Isabelle joined the inquiry.  
“Why’s Leviathan holding you prisoner?”  
The old man responded and they quickly discovered that Leviathan was holding them captive so they’d build a weapon from some Stark schematics. The long-haired Sirius Black wanna-be from the back of the cell, Nikolai, it transpired was the engineer and the one who they were speaking to, Doctor Ivchenko was his psychiatrist. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense and Isabelle would have to be foolish if she didn’t admit that they were clearly missing something big.  
“So, the reds locked up a head doctor and a mad scientist to build a bomb. Sure, why not.” Thompson’s incredulous voice spoke from her left and Isabelle wholly understood his doubts.  
After further exchange the team learnt that Howard Stark was not there, just his schematics, and from the sounds of things he never had been. Though slightly dismayed that answers he might be able provide regarding her situation would have to wait, Isabelle was relieved that she wouldn’t have to tell Tony his dad was involved with the red room and its affiliates.  
Suddenly, Happy Sam who’d been standing watch shouted they had incoming and Peggy and Thompson broke the two prisoners out of their cell. Running down the corridor under heavy gun fire Isabelle turned sending out the occasional photon blast and seismic shockwave trying to give them enough time to escape. 

Pinned down in the boiler room, things just kept getting worse. The young girl from earlier appeared, killing Agent Lee, and shooting Happy Sam in the leg. Gunfire was continuous and there was little reprieve for Isabelle to manoeuvre into a position where she could eliminate the attackers. In a twist of events the crazy doctor took Happy Sam hostage, thinking it would help at least him survive. Not the smartest plan because he had barely moved three foot before Peggy and Isabelle both had their weapons aimed at him. In the background Ivchenko was imploring him to ‘listen to the sound of his voice’ setting mild alarms ringing in Isabelle’s head. But, before Nikolai could do anything, he fell to the floor with Ivchenko sobbing apologies behind him holding a softly smoking gun.  
“Dugan where the hell is my exit?”  
Peggy was franticly yelling into the radio while Isabelle sent shockwaves out hurtling the attackers backwards. Picking up the fallen agent’s weapon from beside her Isabelle used her weapons training and aimed some strategic head and body shots but they were highly outnumbered and needed an exit, quick. With a sudden crash the wall behind the agents collapses in and Dugan and the commandos burst through.  
“Wahoo!!”  
“Stop wahooing and help.”  
The ammo in Lees gun was almost out and behind her Peggy had started clearing everybody out.  
“Everybody out! Thompson, I said everybody!”  
Across from Peggy, Isabelle noticed how the agent’s breathing was heavy, and he was frozen. Providing cover, Isabelle ensured Peggy got him out.  
Dropping the now empty and useless gun to the floor Isabelle and Peggy took up positions to go offensive rather than defensive while Dugan got everybody away.  
“What would Cap say if I left his best girl behind?”  
“Do as Peggy says!”  
Isabelle moved into the centre and sent photon blasts while Peggy shot, the pair both running towards the truck outside but the leviathan soldiers were gaining on them. Impulsively Isabelle turned dropping to one knee and sent a seismic pulse into the ground. The ground in front of her shook and cracked knocking all the soldiers over, like paper cards in a gust of wind. With a split second before they could scramble back to their feet Peggy and Isabelle jumped up onto the back of the truck and clambered in. Falling down to the floor with the men sitting up on the benches, panting Isabelle grinned at Peggy before leaning her head back.  
Doctor Ivchenko looked down at the two sweating women and chuckled “Not bad, for girls.”  
“I hate you all.” Peggy groaned as the rest of the tactical team snickered.

Standing in the airfield Isabelle admired the plane, what she’d give to take a photo to show Coulson. He’d always had a thing for aeronautics and vintage vehicles, this would really impress him. She prayed she’d get the chance to tell him.  
“You ever been to America, Bennet?” Thompson inquired, startling Isabelle out of her musings.  
He looked less shaken now they weren’t pinned down and she was curious as to what he was asking.  
“You were real good out there, I underestimated you. We could use your help catching Stark, you seem to know more than you’re letting on about whatever the hell that warehouse was.”  
“Don’t worry Thompson, most people underestimate me. But why should I come with you? From what I hear the SSR treats one of it’s best agents like a secretary because of her gender.”  
Staring intensely at the blond agent Isabelle tried not to display eagerness. New York was her home, or it had been, would be, time travel was messing with her tenses. She wouldn’t find answers in the wilds of Europe but back in the States she might.  
With red creeping up his cheeks Thompson tilted his head to the side in a sign of defeat.  
“Guilty as charged. That’s been our mistake. Carter has proven herself, I guess I’ve been underestimating her too. The two of you though… we need your help. If you want to provide it?”  
Dugan heard the exchange and walked over. He’d miss the fiery Brit, she needed something more than what the Howling Commando’s could give her though. Howard Stark was somewhere out there hopefully with a solution for her predicament and her best chance was sticking with the SSR. Also, he’d noticed her and Peggy had become fast friends. Mutual respect and a very British sense of humour. Watch out New York, it wouldn’t know what hit it.  
“Izzy, go. We’ve got Europe covered. You want answers, so go.”  
Isabelle’s duffel bag Isabelle’s was in Dugan’s hand, holding everything she owned, and he passed it over before they parted ways. He wished Agent Thompson luck, both with the case and with Isabelle, he’d seen the glances he’d been sending her way over the fire the other night. He figured it’d be good for Isabelle to have someone in her life should she be unable to return to her time, and he liked this Thompson fella even if he did need to get off his high horse.

Walking towards the plane Agent Thompson suppressed a to smile, he couldn’t explain the joy he felt at Bennet accepting the offer. Now Jack Thompson was a trained federal investigator who’d always loved a mystery, ever since he was a kid, and they don’t come much bigger than Miss Isabelle Bennet.


	5. Welcome To New York, It's Been Waiting For You.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is set post 1x05 The Iron Ceiling.

New York in 1946 was different to the New York Isabelle had left behind. But, how much she couldn’t say because for the past 18 hours, since arriving there, she had not left the SSR office. The aroma of stale coffee and paper filled the office with a smell that you only find in offices. Isabelle was yearning for fresh air, it just seemed that would have to wait a little while longer.

Chief Dooley of the New York SSR was not the most open-minded man in the world and had been wary when his agents had returned from Europe with a psychiatrist whom leviathan had been holding prisoner and another British woman. After dismissing his agents for the night, he spoke to the Russian doctor first. Surely he’d be of more use, putting off talking to the brunette who was perched on a desk outside his office. Had she not heard of chairs? 

Out in the squad room Isabelle flicked through manilla files, learning about the case and examined the large board which was covered in pictures and clippings all prevalent to the investigation. Howard Stark’s photograph was front and centre, and she hated to admit it but he was quite handsome in an egocentric kind of way. But his eyes. There was so much of Tony in those eyes and it was almost impossible not to begin reminiscing. Isabelle missed her best friend. A clicking noise behind her snapped her out of her musings and a warm cup of coffee being held under her nose made her turn.  
“You looked like you needed it. Daniel Sousa.”  
“Isabelle Bennet. Thank you.”

After shaking hands, the two lapsed into a comfortable silence, both sipping their coffee staring at the board. Isabelle wanted to say something but was mildly apprehensive of embarrassing herself and that he was just being kind bringing her a drink. She needn’t have worried as Agent Sousa suddenly spoke.  
“What’s in the bag?”  
Looking down at the duffel bag at her feet Isabelle laughed.  
“Everything I own.” Sousa quirked an eyebrow at her, thinking she was joking . “No, I’m serious.”  
“Everything you own, in a single bag?”  
“Yep.”  
Her affirmative answer did little to remove the questioning look on his face so she lifted the bag and unzipped it.  
“Photos of my family, tactical gear, and a change of clothes. Everything that I have. Anyway, why are you still here? No offence but you look exhausted.” Isabelle studied Sousa’s face, it screamed of betrayal but she didn’t wholly understand why.

Chuckling softly, he sipped his drink, shrugging his shoulders. “Just finishing up for the night, I’m going to look into something in the morning but I wanted to be prepared. How did you get involved with the Howling Commando’s, Ramirez said that you were quite close?”  
“I sort of fell into their lives.”  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Chief Dooley opened his office door to see Agent Sousa chatting away to the mysterious girl, the poor fella looked exhausted but had a spark in him that he’d not noticed before. He seemed to be coming into his own, he’d really begun to shine over the last few days when he wasn’t eclipsed by Thompson. He was a hard worker, a good agent maybe a great one someday. Isabelle noticed the Chief staring and rose grabbing her bag, ready to discuss what she assistance she could provide. Turning to Daniel she smiled.  
“I gotta go. Nice talking to you Sousa.”  
“You too Bennet.”  
Looking over her shoulder she said, “Call me Isabelle,” before walking into the Chief’s office.

Dooley interviewed Isabelle for just over an hour and immediately got the impression that she was better skilled than half the highly trained federal agents he had. Her knowledge of Leviathan was limited, nevertheless he begrudgingly admitted that Miss Bennet would be of use in the case. So, he kept her on.


	6. Someday I'll Be Living In A Big Old City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place during Season 1 Episode 6 - Sin To Err

“That was the day I learnt monsters are real and there is none more terrifying than leviathan.”

Listening to Ivchenko’s story, Chief Dooley, Isabelle, Peggy and Thompson began learning about their enemy and the weapons they’d been amassing since the end of the first world war. Peggy took charge aiming specific questions at the doctor much to Chief Dooley’s dismay, though Isabelle felt she’d be better able to provide answers for some of them.  
“Human? Is that what that little girl was? A human weapon?” Peggy interrupted the Doctor,  
“My operation of specific operations is restricted.”  
“That building seemed to hold a training facility…”  
Dooley interjected leaning forwards on his desk, “Training young girls to be what? Assassins?”  
“Seems the Russians would want to train grown men.” Thompson spoke up from his position, leaning casually against the wall. Didn’t it make sense, with a physical size and strength advantage already to capitalise on, to make men assassins rather than pre-teen girls.  
Thinking of Natasha, Isabelle responded, “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”  
“Women are often overlooked, taken for granted. They can slip easily through a man’s defences.” Ivchenko agreed supplying the logical reason for the red room’s programme.

Peggy took to the answer like a bull to a red rag, firing rapid questions at the doctor, not receiving anything of value until Chief Dooley, tired of feeling like he wasn’t in charge, took her out of the room for a ‘word’. His raised voice was audible through the closed door and the three remaining occupants of the office cringed slightly. Looking at Agent Thompson, Isabelle tried to comprehend his change in demeanour. In Europe he had been confident and had allowed Peggy to make her mark, call some of the shots but here he assumed the role of second in command and allowed Peggy to be railroaded even though she was starting to make headway. It was mildly infuriating. Isabelle didn’t know what to think. Suddenly, Chief Dooley re-entered the room, without Peggy, looking slightly exhausted from his shouting.  
‘Bennet, help Carter run down her Russian spy theory. Thompson, stick to the leads we have on Stark. Doctor I have a few more questions if you don’t mind.”

Nodding at the Chief, Agent Thompson held the door open and followed Isabelle out into the bull pen where she re-joined Peggy who’d just put down the phone. “Chief says I’m with you Peggy, where do you want to start?” Peggy, happy that she was finally getting to run a lead at work rather than covertly, was glad that Isabelle would be assisting and informed her they first had to meet a contact of hers.

Isabelle grabbed her duffel and looked around for someplace secure to store it, hoping to find Sousa who she’d met the previous night and immediately taken to, only to realise he was still out chasing his theory.  
‘Isabelle, you coming?” Peggy called from the door.  
“Just a second,” Isabelle walked over to Thompson who was now working at his desk, “Thompson, can I ask a huge favour? Do you mind taking care of my bag, just for a few hours?”  
Surprised at the question, Thompson agreed placing the bag under his desk and smiling at Isabelle as she walked over to join Peggy. Noticing the smile, Peggy decided to file it away for future, was Thompson sweet on the super-powered female?


	7. You Play Stupid Games, You Win Stupid Prizes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The events of this chapter occur during Season 1 Episode 6 - A Sin To Err

The L&L Automat was like something out of a TV show and despite it still being early in the day, it was quite busy. It was the perfect place to meet someone and so Isabelle and Peggy quickly settled into a booth. The contact of Peggy’s was, as it transpired, Howard Stark’s butler, a Mr Edwin Jarvis with whom Peggy had been conducting a secret investigation. One of the waitresses, Peggy’s neighbour was monologuing by one of the tables, and had several people watching her. Isabelle sitting opposite Peggy was processing everything she’d been told having been brought up on Peggy’s escapades en route to the diner.

“So, let me get this straight, Stark had a vault of weapons which was robbed. Said weapons started turning up on the black market and everyone blamed Stark, thinking he’s turned traitor to make a buck. He bails on his last day of hearings and so the SSR starts investigating. And he gets you and his butler to investigate privately. In a move that could be considered treason if you’re caught. Did I miss anything?”  
“No that’s about the size of it.”

The waitress, Angie, came over delivering Peggy her new room key and spoke with the girls for a short while, providing a breath of fresh air to the crazy day they had ahead of them. A chime from above the door accompanied the arrival of sharp dressed man and a subtle nod from Peggy informed Isabelle that this was the butler, Mr Jarvis. Taking a seat behind Peggy they began conversing. A battle in Finow, Germany in ’44 and Howard Stark’s womanising being the key subjects of conversation.  
“We need a list of all the woman Howard has _entertained_ in the last year” Peggy asked Jarvis. “Or at least the last six months is that possible?”  
From his place behind her Jarvis confirmed it would be, and so the peculiar trio left the automat and got to work.

The first port of call was a Jewellery store where the store owner dazzled them with a diamond bracelet called the ‘Stark Special’. The jeweller thought the piece was spectacular not realising the horrified looks on the faces of the woman in front of him.  
Isabelle turned to Jarvis with a face of utter astonishment “Howard Stark buys a bracelet for every person he’s – "  
“No. Well, yes.” Jarvis looked embarrassed by the implication and at his employer’s cavalier attitude towards women. “He considers it a parting gift to commemorate their time together.”  
At this point the jeweller decided to chime in with his two cents “Any girl would be lucky to wear such an item. Would you like to try it on?”  
Looking at the bracelet being offered to her Peggy scoffed. “No. if we can just see the list we’ll be on our way.”  
“Anything for friends of Mr Stark.”  
The jeweller returned with a two-page list of about 40 names. Peggy and Isabelle shared a look while Jarvis commented on how he’d expected it to be longer.  
Immediately Peggy began crossing out names of well-established women who’d been publicly known for several years, narrowing their suspect pool drastically.  
“Oh, I wouldn’t dismiss her.” Jarvis interjected.  
Looking up from what Peggy had been doing Isabelle raised an incredulous eyebrow, “You think Ginger Rogers is a Russian assassin?”  
“Well you should have seen her eyes when I escorted her from Mr Stark’s villa. Darkest gates to the abyss.” Jarvis responded eliciting a chuckle from Isabelle.  
Thanking the store owner, the trio left the store and headed out to start working their way through their suspect list.

Within a few short hours they had worked their way through the majority of the list, none of Mr Stark’s liaisons baring marks on their wrists that might indicate they’d been trained in the red room. Isabelle and Peggy were having a marvellous time, finally in their element working the streets and chasing leads. Mr Jarvis on the other hand was having less fun, Stark it seemed had an unfortunate attraction to women with violent tendencies, and his jaw was sore from being slapped multiple times by an array of women.

However, upon visiting the residence of an Ida Emky, a dancer or caterer Stark had a fling with, they discovered no person had been living there for some time but there were characteristic cuff mark scratches on the bed post. Ida Emky was definitely their Russian spy. Peggy and Isabelle began knocking on doors to gather information while Jarvis went in search of the building owner and a paper trail. Isabelle had a nagging feeling they wouldn’t find anything if her years of experience with Natasha had taught her anything.


	8. All I Know Is You Said Hello.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during Season 1 Episode 6: A Sin To Err

Back at the SSR, Agent Thompson was hard at work, looking through old notes and reports. Searching and scanning for something that would provide answers. Since returning from Europe he’d had a niggling feeling in the back of his mind that this ordeal was bigger than just Stark selling his weapons to enemy states. They were missing something crucial. That blonde at Spider Raymond’s club knew something they didn’t and Sousa was running a lead on her. There was also the Isabelle Bennet conundrum.  
Who was she? 

The Howling Commando’s were well known and respected, but when the SSR arrived in Europe they had a new member, which in fairness wasn’t strange, of course they would have recruited post-war after all they had lost two members. Isabelle Bennet was a puzzle. Jack Thompson trusted her; he didn’t know what it was but something about her made him feel safe. But she did know something. Something she was keeping to herself. Her duffel bag was sitting safe at his feet under the desk and every moment he had to fight the urge to open it, sure it was a violation of privacy but maybe there was a clue in there.

He couldn’t get her out of his head. Since first seeing her in the forest, all cocky smile, flaming hair and strategic decisions, she’d taken up residence in his thoughts. Thompson had been in relationships before, he had been on dates with pretty women but Isabelle Bennet was in a league of her own. She was beautiful and clever and a fighter.  
Back in the boiler room when they’d been pinned down, she was so calm, like she’d been in that scenario a million times before, it was old hat. Thompson had a sneaky suspicion she had. There was also something else, she’d done something but he’d missed it during his panic attack. The Leviathan soldiers flying backwards, the scorch marks on the walls, how the truck had shaken when her and Peggy had been running out of the building.  
But that was coincidence, surely. They couldn’t have been because of her?

A shadow appeared over Thompson’s desk causing him to look up only to find one of the newer agents standing over him.  
“That background check you asked for.”  
“Thanks, Youch” Taking it from him and leaning back in his chair, Thompson opened the file, which unhelpfully was pretty thin.  
“It’s actually Yauch.” The agent responded, not moving from where he stood staring at the Chief’s office.  
“You waiting for a tip or something?” Thompson joked when he saw that Yauch hadn’t moved.  
“Chief’s been in there a long time with that Russian guy.”  
“Well that Russian guy is a huge lead in our case against Stark, Agent, so Chief is just taking extra time to keep sure he gets everything right. You got a problem with that?” Thompsons voice sounded convincing, for a split second he almost believed what he was saying himself.  
Though he’d never admit it aloud he had the same apprehensions as Yauch. There was something about Doctor Ivchenko and how he’d weaseled his way right into the lap of the Chief that didn’t sit right with him.  
“No. I’m just saying it’s different from how he usually does things.” Yauch responded, blissfully unaware of the inner torment in Thompson.  
“Well I’m just saying don’t worry about what Dooley’s doing. Okay? Now, can you brew a pot of coffee, it’s almost getting low.”

As he dismissed the agent, Thompson began properly looking at the file. Perhaps he should talk to Sousa about his apprehensions, the guy had his head on straight he’d provide a reasonable assessment.  
Speak of the devil…

Across the room the door to Dooley’s office swung open and Sousa stepped in. Hating what he’d discovered but knowing the truth had to come to light. Out in the bullpen Sousa filled in the Chief, and Thompson who’d swaggered over, on Peggy’s involvement, she was the blonde at the club, she had been there at Sheldon McPhee’s house; the entire time she’d been working with Stark behind their backs.  
“She won’t be easy to apprehend Chief, and she definitely won’t come quietly. So, what’s the play?”  
Thompson and Sousa looked at Dooley awaiting instructions, reeling from the betrayal and mildly impressed that Peggy had successfully blindsided all of them. Thompson was worried though. He’d seen Peggy in action in Europe, she’d worked with Captain America for years, she could best most the agents they had and they’d let Isabelle go investigate with her today. Everyone could see that those two were close, despite their short acquaintance, and Thompson had never known anyone to fight like she did.  
This would not end well.


	9. They're Burning All The Witches, Even If You Aren't One.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The events of this chapter occur during Season 1 Episode 6: A Sin To Err

Walking into the Automat Peggy and Isabelle felt exhilarated. Sure, they didn’t have all the answers but they were getting somewhere. Ida Emky had a few months head start but she couldn’t hide forever.

Since landing in 1946, Isabelle’s days had been hazy, she had been walking through a blur. Her only goal had been getting home and her destination was still so far away. It’d been a disheartening few weeks. But, for the first time a spark had reignited inside of her. She was doing some good, going to make a difference. Part of her began to feel like her old self again, the sun was peeping through the clouds that had been trailing her and the warmth on her skin made her feel alive.

Upon entering the diner Peggy and Isabelle split up to try and look less conspicuous when talking to Jarvis, who was already choosing something to eat. Something was different. A palpable shift in the atmosphere had occurred since their leaving that morning. It seemed less friendly more hostile. Taking a seat at a table Isabelle held up a menu using the pretence of choosing something as an opportunity to examine the occupants of the diner. Subtly, at first, she noticed men in suits ushering people out of their seats and making them exit the diner. Catching Peggy’s eye from across the room Isabelle understood, since leaving the SSR that morning the covert operation that Peggy and Jarvis had been successfully running for the past few weeks had been discovered. 

“10 cents for a cup of coffee, would you believe it?”  
Peggy’s voice spoke from across the diner, then all hell broke loose. Multiple agents pounced, trying no doubt, to apprehend Peggy. Knowing it was wise to refrain from using her powers, destruction of public property and all that, Isabelle assisted using her years of combat training to take down the men. Jarvis was struggling by the door preventing further agents from entering and shouted at Peggy to use the back exit. With a nod Peggy took off, Jarvis and Isabelle following closely behind.

Standing outside the back entrance of the L&L Automat, a diner that Peggy often frequented, Thompson weighed up the options. Either she’d come quietly, something he highly doubted, or there’d be a struggle. The unmistakable sound of glass breaking from the other side of the door indicated the latter. Now Thompson had warned the DC guys, that the two women should not be underestimated at any cost, he supposed they had to learn that the same way he did. He just prayed he’d never been on the receiving end of either of the girls’ fist. Leaning back against a stairwell he waited for the inevitable back alley retreat. Right on cue the door swung open and Peggy exited looking slightly less put together than normal.

“Stop right there, Carter. No sudden movements.” Thompson watched Peggy shift slightly “ah. Those idiots from DC didn’t believe me when I said you’d be hard to grab.”  
A flash of betrayal lit up Thompson’s eyes. He’d never appreciated Peggy, had held the belief that protecting the world, being a federal agent was a man’s job. His Godfather, Vernon, had drilled that into him. Peggy stomped on that ideology, regularly took swings at the glass ceiling, recently he’d begun to admire her for it. 

“What’s happening Jack?” Peggy’s voice was full of innocence. She knew in her gut her time was up that the charade was over. She wasn’t ready to give in, not yet, not when she was so close.  
The door behind her swung open and Jarvis and Isabelle exited. Thompson did a double-take. At some point since he’d last seen her Isabelle had gotten hold of some period appropriate attire that wasn’t tactical gear, and it suited her. She looked incredible. He was getting distracted, she maybe not to the extremes of the other two, was under suspicion of espionage. The mission in Europe had shown she was clearly used to treading those waters.

Turning his focus back to Peggy, Thompson tried to refrain from allowing any malice to slip into his words.  
“Witness places you with Branis the night he died. Got photos of you at the club night Spider Raymond was killed. And, here you are with your best friend Howard Stark’s butler.”  
Jarvis looked frantic, “I think there’s been a terrible misunderstanding.”  
“Stuff it.”  
Isabelle watched the exchange apprehensively. She wanted to defend her friend but if the SSR had proof, it was going to get messy.  
“Turn yourself in, come back to the office and tell me all about it.” 

Thompson was talking as if he could get Peggy to just drop everything she had accomplished so far. There wasn’t the slightest chance that would happen. Isabelle knew being caught alongside Peggy meant waving goodbye to any hope of assistance from the SSR regarding her predicament. But she’d choose this side, every time.

“Sweetheart look around, you don’t really have a choice.”  
Isabelle tried not to blanch at the patronising nickname. Misogyny at it’s finest. Again, he’d underestimated the girls, Peggy was tougher than she looked and far more wilful, and Isabelle, if pushed, could snap the neck of the handsome agent with a flick of her wrist. Suddenly, Peggy was apologising and in a split-second Thompson was thrown to the ground and knocked down with a solid right hook to the face.

They didn’t have long. He’d come round quickly and whatever back-up he had would be swift.  
Looking ruffled Peggy instructed the other two to meet her at the Dublin House on 79th Street.  
Anxious about splitting up especially now, Jarvis inquired “Meet you there? Where are you going?”  
“There’s something I need to get at The Griffith.”  
“That’s a horrible idea. That’s the first place they’ll look. What could you possibly need?” Jarvis’ voice lacked any decorum.  
With a look of pure heartbreak Peggy responded “Steve’s blood.”  
It was not an answer that Isabelle had expected and she was mildly creeped out over people, however important they were to him, randomly having Steve’s blood in their homes. With a final shout of ‘Go’ Peggy took off down one end of the alley. 

Glancing at the unconscious man on the floor Isabelle whispered an apology and headed down the other with Jarvis at her side.


	10. Pourin' Out My Heart To A Stranger, But I Didn't Pour The Whiskey

Sitting in the car with Jarvis, Isabelle stared out the window watching the city she loved roll by. It had only been two months since she’d last walked these streets but so much had changed. The New York outside the window was not hers; it hadn’t experienced the same history, didn’t bare the same scars, it had the hustle and bustle but not to the same extent. Beside her, Jarvis looked ashen, dreading what Peggy was doing, terrified that she was about to be caught. With her foreknowledge Isabelle was confident that everything would be okay, after all if Peggy got charged with treason, she couldn’t found SHIELD with Tony’s father so it had to turn out alright.

Jarvis pulled up and parked the car opposite The Dublin House, an Irish pub Steve had dragged her to a few times, and opened Isabelle’s door snapping her out of her musings.  
“Shall we Miss Bennet?”  
Walking into The Dublin House, the duo found a table to sit at, ordered a drink and waited for Peggy.

Jarvis was tapping his foot. Again. For the past half an hour he’d been tapping his foot, checking his watch and sipping his tea, incessantly. His anxiety was driving Isabelle bonkers. Peggy had decided to go off alone so now all they could do is wait. It had been barely 45 minutes since they’d parted ways behind the Automat, if Peggy hadn’t arrived or made contact within an hour then Isabelle would start planning for the worst, but currently Jarvis’s fretting was not helpful. Looking at her empty glass on the table and her agitated companion, Isabelle rose to get a drink.  
“Water, please.”

Standing at the bar waiting for her refill, an unwelcome hand found its way onto Isabelle’s waist and started sliding down to rest on the small of her back. Just by instinct, she twisted around grabbing her harasser’s head and hitting it against the bar in front of her- hard enough to give a nasty headache but no serious damage. With a look of pure annoyance and disgust she looked down at the groaning man, “Excuse you,” and sharing a roll of the eyes with the smiling woman behind the bar she accepted her drink and returned to an intrigued Jarvis.

Noticing the look on the Butler’s face Isabelle quirked an eyebrow in question.  
“I understand why Miss Carter likes you.”  
“Yeah, why’s that?”  
“You’re just as fiery.”  
Laughing at Jarvis’ word choice, “You have no idea, Mr Jarvis.”  
“Though I must say Miss Bennet, I was not aware the New York SSR had any other female agents.”  
“That’s because they don’t.”  
“But you are an Agent?” Jarvis inquired.  
With a sip of her drink Isabelle pondered how to respond. With a shrug of her shoulders, she relaxed into her chair. “Of sorts,” The puzzled look on Jarvis’ face made her continue. “I used to work for an agency slightly more advanced than the SSR.”  
“Did you leave then?”  
“No, errm it was disbanded in a way. Factions survived but the agency as a whole went up in flames. Though maybe it was for the better; besides nothing lasts forever”  
From his seat Jarvis just nodded his head.

In all his years working for Mr Stark and before working under the General, Jarvis had encountered many remarkable people and had become quite adept at reading them. For example: Peggy Carter, a woman on a mission, trying to right every wrong in the world on her own, carrying all her hurt and guilt inside, she’d never grieved or moved on from those she’d lost which only added to the burden she carried. Chief Dooley of the SSR was in Jarvis’s estimation a desperate man, exhausted from the war and all the problems he’d been tasked with fixing in the wake of it, as Chief he pulled many of the strings but he only saw what he wanted to see, had tunnel vision so to speak. Now Isabelle Bennet, the woman opposite him, she was fascinating. It was evident that she was a fighter with a big heart but she seemed lost and lonely, he’d noticed the way her eyes had sparkled and then dimmed walking into The Dublin House, like a ghost roaming its home that had been renovated – out of place in familiar surroundings.

“I suppose that’s true; things have to end though or nothing new can begin.” Jarvis stated. “Do you think Miss Carter is okay? I’m worried. She shouldn’t have gone to The Griffith if she gets arrested how do we fix this mess Mr Stark has caused?”  
“Jarvis, Peggy is a big girl, she can look after herself. In my experience going home after a confrontation like that is inadvisable; the SSR will head their first no doubt about it. But don’t worry, sometimes it’s better.”  
A scandalised expression adorned Jarvis’ face after Isabelle’s calm admission.  
“How is that better?” Jarvis questioned in a slightly higher pitch than normal.  
“She’ll be on her home turf. If she doesn’t arrive in the next five minutes how about I head over there, see what I can find out? Only a handful of people know me and I’m very good at blending in.”  
“Yes, yes that’s a good idea. But what do we do then, if she has been caught?”  
Reaching across the table Isabelle placed a reassuring hand on Jarvis’ shaking ones. “If we need to, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, but right now let’s just breathe and enjoy the tea. Worrying only means you suffer twice.”  
Looking slightly more relaxed, Jarvis smiled and agreed to the plan, and so ten minutes later Isabelle exited the bar and hailed a cab to get to The Griffith in search of Peggy.

Entering the lobby of The Griffith Isabelle instantly knew something had happened. Chattering girls were standing in groups and talking quickly, no doubt comparing gossip. Deciding to gather any knowledge she could Isabelle walked over to the nearest group of women and asked what had happened. Like a stone dropping in water will surely cause a ripple, a woman in a mint green cardigan confirmed her suspicions.  
“Peggy Carter, the English girl who works for the telephone company was dragged out in handcuffs about an hour ago.”  
Knowing that a plan was needed quickly Isabelle raised a finger “I need to make a quick phone call and then I want to hear everything.”  
The group clearly excited to share the gossip more, looked eager at the prospect and Isabelle dashed over to a phone at the front desk and called Jarvis who was still waiting at The Dublin House.

“Hello, my name’s Isabelle do you mind putting one of your customers on the phone… Mr Jarvis, British, in a nice suit... Thank you.” As the bar tender got hold of Jarvis on the other end of the line, Isabelle scanned the room hoping to spot Angie, the waitress from the Automat who she’d met earlier that day, if she was going to get some credible information then Angie was the girl she needed.  
“Edwin Jarvis speaking.”  
“Peggy’s been arrested.”  
“What!” From the other end of the phone Jarvis’ voice was a few decibels higher than normal.  
“I’m going to find out as much as I can from the people here at The Griffith and then I’ll come back. I need you to start thinking of a plan. She’ll be a flight risk so it has to be solid and fool proof. See if you can contact Mr Stark, it’s a long shot I know, but he might be of use or at least have a good lawyer.” 

After hanging up the phone Isabelle began her intel gathering, hearing all the variations of events and the onslaught of opinions on both Peggy, the nice British lady getting arrested to the handsome agents who dragged her out in handcuffs. Eventually, after what felt like forever but was really more like an hour and a half, Isabelle located Angie who took her up to her room and helped fill in some of the blanks. 

According to Angie, Peggy had been standing on the window ledge – dangerous – while the SSR searched not only her room but also spoke to Angie herself. Isabelle found Angie’s re-enactment of the events hilarious and if Peggy hadn’t been in trouble would definitely have spent longer laughing with the thespian. Angie said Peggy had been in her room and was ready to sneak out to The Dublin House where Angie’s brother would pick her up and get her out of town, only somewhere between Angie’s room and the exit she’d been caught, apparently in a semi-conscious state and escorted out in handcuffs.  
It was this detail that bothered Isabelle. What had happened to Peggy on her trip down the stairs? She must have met someone. Ida Emky, perhaps? Whoever it was had done something to compromise her, make her vulnerable, perhaps they should count their lucky stars that the SSR had caught Peggy when they did, because who knows what would have happened to her if they hadn’t. 

As she exited the building Isabelle spotted Jarvis waiting in his car just across the street. With her new found knowledge, she felt ready for action and climbing into the car told Jarvis of her suspicions.  
“I think our Russian spy, the one who set up Mr Stark, has been staying here at The Griffith. And I think Peggy knows who it is.” Jarvis nodded a look of fascination painting his features and inclined his head to a briefcase on the backseat. Reaching back, Isabelle grabbed it and opened it. “Mr Stark’s confession.”  
“He came through then. That’s brilliant.” Isabelle reacted with enthusiasm while flicking through the documents inside.  
Reaching up to subconsciously scratch his ear Jarvis smiled. “It seems he has. So, Miss Bennet, shall we go rescue Miss Carter?”  
Smiling triumphantly Isabelle nodded.  
“Once more into the breach Mr Jarvis.”


	11. Band Aids Don't Fix Bullet Holes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The events of this chapter coincide with Season 1 Episode 7: SNAFU

As Jarvis and Isabelle walked into the telephone company, the front for the SSR, every phone operator turned to look at them. When Isabelle had arrived the other evening, it had been a lot quieter and accompanied by Peggy and Agent Thompson she had not been on the receiving end of any funny looks like she was currently subjected to.  
Jarvis unfazed, stopped beside the lady at the furthest desk and took charge.  
“Pardon me.”  
The red-head eyed the duo wearily. “Err, can I help you?”  
“Yes, I’m looking for Chief Dooley.” Jarvis responded, cool as a cucumber.  
“I’m sorry I don’t know who that is.”  
Perfectly aware of the truth behind the façade, Jarvis continued, “Ahh, he runs this operation…the SSR that is. I’ve been here before for questioning.”  
“Sir, I wish I could help you but we’re very busy and only authorised personnel are allowed in here.”  
Not fazed for a second, he continued. “If you could just punch him up on your board and tell him that Edwin Jarvis is here to see him,” and raising the briefcase in his hand Jarvis stunned the room into silence, “With the signed confession of Howard Stark.”  
With wide eyes the red-head sent them through.  
As they were escorted into the SSR headquarters Isabelle whispered in Jarvis’ ear, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

The air in the briefing room was stuffy. Agent Sousa was leaning against the wall; to Isabelle he appeared almost heartbroken, angry and there was a tinge of disappointment in his eyes. Chief Dooley was reading through the papers Jarvis had brought and Isabelle sat perched on the corner of the table looking out the window to the street below.  
A noise behind her made her turn to find Thompson leading Peggy into the room with her hands cuffed behind her back. As she moved towards the group Isabelle caught Thompson’s eye only for him to frown and quickly turn his head away. Before Isabelle could dwell too much on what that could be about, Peggy spoke up.  
“What’s this man doing here?”  
From his position, Sousa responded with bitterness lacing his words. “Pulling your fat out the fryer, apparently.”  
Jarvis locked eyes with Peggy who was standing in disbelief, “I’m afraid the charade is over Agent Carter; Mr Stark has decided to come clean.”  
“What’s that?” Thompson inquired looking at the documents on the table in front of the Chief.  
“Boyfriend’s confession. He owns up to everything. The job on his vault, selling explosives, the Roxxon implosion.”  
“And where’s the man himself?” 

As Jarvis conferred with the agents, Isabelle began to re-evaluate the situation. With everything that she knew Howard Stark’s only crimes were firstly not being able to keep it in his pants and secondly getting played by a Russian spy. Thus, as a consequence of the two: being robbed. But, claiming responsibility? Something about that didn’t sit right with Isabelle. Now that reality was setting in, accepting the blame would make it a done deal, the hunt would be off and the real culprits would walk away. Eyeing Jarvis, Isabelle got a sinking feeling in her gut that the ‘confession’ was not all it appeared to be.

On the other side of the table Jack Thompson was in two minds.  
They had caught Peggy, had conclusive proof that she’d been working with Howard Stark, but his gut was telling him she wasn’t a part of the conspiracy; only a lackey clearing up the mess. He knew she was a good agent, and most likely an even better friend. She’d saved his life in Europe; she knew his darkest secret; he owed her a debt and honestly, he didn’t believe she was guilty. But supposedly they were being given Stark on a silver platter. Now Jack was sure that Stark’s fingerprints were all over this mess. They were his inventions so the pile of bodies was on him even if he didn’t personally pull the trigger.  
As the butler yammered on Thompson looked over at Isabelle, in what he believed to be a subtle way, unaware that Sousa had noticed. How was she tangled up in this mess? From what he knew she’d never even met Stark, but if she had then maybe she’d been playing them. He didn’t want to believe that was true, he really didn’t but he couldn't shake the feeling that she was hiding something big. 

Dooley’s voice snapped both Isabelle and Thompson out of their musings.  
“She’s staying here and so are you. Miss Bennet has no charges against her so she can leave at the end of the day with the other agents. I want the signature page delivered and when Stark lands we bring him here, have an exchange. That’s the deal.”  
The finality in Chief Dooley’s voice left little room for negotiation.  
“It would appear so.” Jarvis responded, resigned, holding out his hand which Dooley quickly shook.  
“And for the record, I find you repulsive. Remove the cuffs.”  
As Thompson uncuffed Peggy she spoke with indignation, “Howard can’t do this. They’ll never clear his name!”  
“We’re not clearing anybody. You’re done.”  
“I don’t think you’ve understood our compromise regarding Agent Carter.” Jarvis said.  
Turning, Dooley responded. “Oh, she’s free from prosecution, when Stark walks into the building she walks out. For good. Carter you’re out of the SSR!”  
As the male agents exited the room Thompson spared a cursory glance at Isabelle who’d collapsed into a chair and was now gently massaging her temples. Perhaps when this was all over, he’d talk to her properly, apologise for inviting her back to the States and getting her caught up in this mess.

As Isabelle had begun to suspect, the confession had not been written by Howard Stark and was rather the product of Jarvis’s panic. Peggy was furious to put it mildly, rightly so. Now the pair were leaning against the table in the briefing room across from Isabelle, with the minutes ticking away until the ruse would be up.  
“I’m sure we could lure one of them in, get the drop on them and steal their weapon.” Jarvis piped up, only to receive two scandalised looks.  
“Get the drop on them. You’ve been in custody all of an hour and you’re Jimmy Cagney.” Peggy responded  
“Is there no one here who will listen to reason?” Jarvis asked, looking intently at Peggy who frowned in return.  
“I believe it’s safe to say I have no friends left at the SSR. If I ever had any.”

Behind Peggy, Isabelle saw a movement in the Chief’s office that caught her attention. Walking around the table to get a better angle she saw Doctor Ivchenko standing next to an open window tapping something on the ledge in what was clearly morse code.  
“Peggy, get paper and a pen. Look.” Getting the attention of the others, Isabelle inclined her head to Doctor Ivchenko.  
Grabbing the items, Peggy started copying down the message that was being tapped out while Isabelle tried to figure out where whoever he was communicating with was in the opposite building.  
“Prepare for evacuation” Jarvis recited, reading over Peggy’s shoulder.  
“You know morse code?” Isabelle stated, mildly shocked.  
“Your surprise wounds me.”  
“He’s tapping out a timetable. Ninety minutes.” Peggy informed them.>/br> Jarvis curious, asked the logical question. “What’s happens in ninety minutes?”  
Writing down the end of the message Peggy exchanged a horrified look with Isabelle and Jarvis.

“Leviathan is coming!”

It was obvious immediately that they needed to warn the SSR, but given the events that had unfurled and the current attitudes towards Peggy, they knew it was going to be tricky. They had thrown around a few suggestions about what to do and as Peggy exited the briefing room it seemed only one course of action would suffice.  
In the squad room the agents were hard at work finishing up reports on what they believed was now a closed case. Dooley and Sousa were standing near his office discussing a file and it was them that Peggy made a beeline towards.  
“Chief Dooley I’d like to make a confession.” Peggy announced as she approached.  
With a look of annoyance Dooley turned to walk away. “I’ve already got the confession I need.”  
“It’s a fake.”  
Peggy’s voice stopped him in his track and promptly caused the agents around to all turn in her direction.  
“Howard Stark isn’t coming. The confession is a phoney, the signature a forgery.” 

Within moments Chief Dooley and Agents Thompson and Sousa were sitting at the table in the briefing room listening with attentive ears to Peggy and Jarvis’s tale, that for the first time Isabelle was also hearing in its entirety. It was quite the story. Evidently it was having a bit of an impact on the SSR agents but they weren’t ready to believe it as a whole.  
“Why are you telling us this now?”  
Peggy appeared frustrated. They were up against the clock and didn’t have time for people still doubting her and her capabilities.  
“Because, I’m going to need your trust if you’re going to believe me about Doctor Ivchenko.”  
“The evil enemy scientist?” Dooley said incredulously, raising an eyebrow.  
Sousa just as doubtful quipped “Yeah, he’s a real killer you can tell by the way he rubs his nose.”  
Sparing a glance at the Doctor in Chief Dooley’s office it did seem unlikely but Peggy would not be deterred.  
“I know what I saw! He was communicating with someone in morse code, across the street, the south-east corner of the building, at least ten storeys or higher.”  
“I saw it too.” Jarvis chipped in which did little to raise credibility.  
“Well, if you saw it too” Jack replied, sarcasm dripping from every word.

It seemed that the SSR would be harder to convince than they’d initially thought and so Peggy tired of being doubted pulled out her final trump card, praying that it’d be enough to make them listen to reason.  
The device in her hand was small and a deep grey, externally it looked like nothing important, rather mediocre, and yet Peggy held it in her hands as protectively as a mother cradling her new-born child.  
Eyes brimming with tears Peggy held the orb out to Chief Dooley who clicked the switch on the side and in almost slow motion a small vial of red liquid was revealed from within. Every eye in the sextet was watching the vial as if it was about to explode.  
“What does this stuff implode? Explode? Spice up an old fashioned?” Chief Dooley, wholly unaware of the importance of what he was holding, was growing frustrated with the British agent in-front of him for wasting his time.  
With a shaky voice Peggy spoke. “That… is the last remaining sample of Captain Steve Rogers blood.” Isabelle heard Agent Thompsons sharp intake of breath from next to her and stunned expressions adorned the faces of the majority of the group. Agent Sousa looked at Peggy with such emotion in his eyes that Isabelle finally understood why the supposed betrayal had cut him so deeply. It seemed the tides were finally turning in Peggy’s favour. “Mr Stark was afraid your scientists would squander the remaining samples trying to recreate the serum.”  
“Which they did. So, I’m afraid you’ll have to forgive him for trying to protect the greatest scientific feat of the 20th Century.” Jarvis added almost defensively, of Peggy or Mr Stark, it was slightly unclear.  
Still staring at the vial of blood in Chief Dooley’s hand, Peggy continued. “Howard didn’t trust me with it either. He lied about the contents of the device, he nearly convinced me that I was saving the city by stealing it.”  
Sousa studied Peggy, taking in her shaky voice and glossy eyes but admiring how she was still so well composed in spite of everything.  
“Is that why you kept it? Because he lied?”  
Looking up for the first time, Peggy answered Sousa’s question honestly.  
“Maybe at first. Or, perhaps I didn’t trust our greatest capitalist with such a prize. But I couldn’t bring it here and for that I don’t have an answer… I suppose I just wanted a second chance at keeping him safe.”  
In that instant Isabelle longed to tell Peggy that it would be okay. That she would see Steve again. Let her know he would be safe. But she knew she couldn’t.

Following the declaration, Chief Dooley and Agents Thompson and Sousa discussed what they’d learnt.  
Right off the bat Daniel admitted that he believed Peggy, though Dooley was uncertain, wary that it was an act.  
“She came clean even though she was halfway out the door with Stark’s confession.” Daniel pointed out. Seemingly, Peggy was back in his good graces.  
“If that confession is real, but she’s saying it isn’t. By her own account Carter would be back in Cuffs when Stark didn’t show.”  
“She gave up Captain America’s blood. I know that’s big for her, so do you Jack.” Sousa responded with a pointed look, prompting a smile form his fellow agent.  
“Big enough to relight that torch your carrying?” Thompson teased.  
“Hey, I brought her down, remember. Besides you’re one to talk about torches, I saw how you were looking at Isabelle.” Sousa stated, not denying Thompson’s implication.  
“I think she’s telling the truth.” Sousa finished looking at Dooley, before Thompson could respond to his comment about Isabelle.  
Composing himself, Thompson turned to the Chief. “What do you think Chief? Do you trust her?”  
“No.” Dooley admitted. “But I trust Sousa’s gut. Take a couple of men across the street. Do a looksie. Take Bennet too, she has an idea of what she’s looking for and you said it yourself Thompson, she can handle herself.”  
With a nod at the Chief, Daniel set about informing agents to grab their gear.  
“What about Ivchenko?” Thompson asked.  
With a quick glance back at his office Dooley sent the agents on their way.


	12. You Drew Stars Around My Scars, Now I'm Bleeding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter occurs during Season 1 Episode 7: SNAFU

It felt good to be part of the team, and Isabelle was glad to actually be doing something and of use; but part of her was screaming, disgusted at the double standards in the SSR. Why were people so intent on pitting women against each other and holding them to different standards? Peggy and Isabelle were as capable as each other. No doubt they had their different strengths, weaknesses and experiences but Isabelle couldn’t fathom why she was being trusted and given opportunities that Peggy was constantly being denied.  
It wasn’t right.

As Thompson led the group of agents across the street, he began to feel apprehensive. He’d seen the little girl in Europe and how skilled she was up against people twice her size and if Peggy was right – which if he was honest, she normally was – then they were looking for an adult with years of experience; a woman who’d make that little girl look like a fluffy teddy bear. He was scared.  
Now, Thompson had no doubt that the small group of agents were good, he just worried she might be better. Of course, Isabelle was the curve ball – he wasn’t a hundred percent sure why Dooley had instructed them to bring her along, and what Sousa had been going on about.  
He wasn’t carrying a torch for her. Sure, he thought she was beautiful, and he was in awe of how she could hold her own, and she was intelligent and alluring and a mystery… but, what did Sousa know?

As the lift rose up the building, agents dispersed on various floors; searching for the person whom Doctor Ivchenko had supposedly been communicating with. Every agent had their gun loaded and ready and was equipped with a radio to ensure constant communication.  
“Stairwell’s clear.” An agent’s voice came through.  
“Okay, keep the exits covered. Call in if you see anything suspicious.” Thompson instructed.  
As an Agent disembarked the lift, he stopped them. “That goes for you too. Play it safe.”

Then there were three. Isabelle, Thompson and Sousa continued to rise with the lift, Thompson breaking the uneasy silence.  
“You believe Carter?”  
Sousa turned slightly surprised by the question. “I do.”  
Looking at Isabelle, Jack responded. “Yeah, me too.”  
The simple admission caused a weight to lift off Isabelle’s shoulders that she hadn’t realised she’d been carrying. She sent him a small smile which he reciprocated, as Sousa prepared to exit the lift.  
“Look if she’s right about the girl in her building, you run into her, do yourself a favour and start shooting. To kill.” Thompson warned Sousa as the doors opened.  
Mildly miffed at what he felt was an attack on his competence Sousa responded, “I can handle myself.”  
“Sousa, I don’t doubt that. But, after seeing that kid tear through us in Russia… I’d hate to tangle with one that’s all grown up.”  
After Thompson’s admission, Sousa drew his weapon and squared his shoulders as the doors slid shut; leaving Isabelle and Thompson alone in the lift.

Despite his calm composure, Thompson looked slightly nauseous giving him away.  
“Are you scared?”  
“No, I have this terrified look on my face because I am having so- much- fun.” Thompson responded breathing deeply.  
“You’ll be fine, Thompson.” Isabelle reassured him patting him on the arm.  
Ignoring the tingly feeling her touch caused, he looked at her full on.  
“How can you be sure? Somewhere in this building is a Russian assassin, trained since childhood to be a lethal weapon.”  
“Exactly.” Something about how she was smiling reassured him. “Follow your instincts, they won’t let you down. I’ve got your back, just say the word.”  
The lift came to a stop once more, doors sliding open. Isabelle stepped out.  
“Bennet… watch your six.”  
With a nod, Isabelle turned her back and the doors slid shut on Thompson.

In what seemed like no time at all Sousa’s voice was coming over the radio.  
From where she was on her floor, Isabelle rushed to the stairwell – hoping to intercept the spy or at least learn who she was looking for.  
Looking down, Isabelle saw a mop of blonde hair exiting the door and didn’t pause before jumping over the stairwell bannister to give chase. Quaking as she reached the ground, nullifying the impact from a double-digit storey jump, Isabelle raced out the door only to come up empty.  
Their Russian spy had vanished into the busy New York crowds.  
She’d got away.

“Agent down. We have an Agent down.” Thompson’s voice resounded from the radio.  
Behind her, the doors swung open and Thompson came rushing out onto the busy street with his weapon drawn. Slightly short of breath, Isabelle realised he had run down the flights of stairs in an attempt to catch their Russian spy, not having been able to take the superpower shortcut that she did.  
“She’s gone.” Isabelle said, turning to a frustrated Thompson.  
In that moment the pair missed seeing Doctor Ivchenko exit the SSR building and climb into a waiting car with a package in hand, before driving off.  
“Dammit!” Thompson cursed. “Sousa and some of the agents are going to stay here, search the building for anything important that might’ve been left behind. You and I, let’s head back to the office, regroup and rethink.”

The ninety-minute timeframe was almost up, if something was going down it was going down soon.

All day Thompson had been sending Isabelle quizzical looks and reaching her limit, she stopped walking and confronted him.  
“Thompson, what’s the matter?”  
Drawing to a stop, realising Isabelle was no longer at his side, Thompson turned back. “Huh?”  
“You’ve been looking at me strangely all day, especially since the Russian got away. Spill.”  
Deciding it best not to beat around the bush, he ripped off the plaster. “What are you? It’s been bugging me since we met. You’re pals with the Howling Commandos and are clearly a highly trained operative, but there is no record of you. Anywhere. It’s like you don’t exist! Then just now, you jumped fifteen storeys and landed without so much as a scratch. Not to mention in the Russian base. What are you?”  
Running her fingers through her hair, Isabelle let out a breath in frustration. She’d been sloppy. Now she was paying the price. Impulsively she’d done what she always did and people were putting pieces together without her telling them… seven decades too early. So much for spy craft, Fury would be disappointed in her. “Look Thompson it’s complicated.”  
“I’m a big boy I can handle it. Talk.” Thompson said unhappy with her answer.  
“Aren’t there bigger issues currently. I mean didn’t you want to interrogate Ivchenko or, oh, I don’t know? Find out what Leviathan are up to?”  
Between the pair frustration was building; Isabelle deciding that there was no point continuing this conversation went to walk past the blond who was clenching his jaw.  
“Really Bennet. That’s all you’re going to say?” This wasn’t going well for either of them. “Maybe you already know what Leviathan are up to?!”  
Snapping round Isabelle looked at Thompson in shock.  
“Excuse me!”  
“You heard me. Maybe you already know what they’re up to because you are Leviathan.”  
“Seriously?”  
“Yes, seriously!” Thompson’s voice was rising and he had unknowingly stepped closer to Isabelle.  
“We found you… in Europe… same time as the Doctor. And you know a hell of a lot about how they train young girls… maybe because you are one? Spent your childhood handcuffed to a bed, being experimented on, learning to kill innocent people. It’s a logical explanation. Especially since you don’t exist anywhere and nobody outside of the howling commandos has heard of you. I checked. Not to mention all that weird stuff that happens around you. So, Isabelle Bennet. If that’s even your real name… I’ll ask you this once: are you Leviathan?”  
Aghast Isabelle reacted, like Thompson stepping closer until they were almost chest to chest. Her voice angry.  
“Logical! There is nothing logical about it. I am not, nor will I ever be Leviathan! What kind of conspiracy theory is that?”  
“A reasonable one. You know enough about their inner workings, so…what…are…you?” Thompson bit out.  
Inhaling deeply. “Like I said it’s complicated. And I know so much about the Red Room because my best friend was trained there before she defected. I’m only known to a handful of people because I don’t exist! Becau-”  
Isabelle’s tirade was interrupted by the sound of smashing glass from down the corridor and instinctually, Thompson grabbed her hand and pulled her into the observation room with him to find the source of the noise.

Entering the room, shards of broken glass were lying everywhere, and on the other side of what had moments before had been a one-way mirror, Peggy and Jarvis were standing, handcuffed to the table.  
“What the hell is going on here?” Thompson asked, still holding Isabelle’s hand, which they both quickly realised and let go.  
Peggy sounding fretful practically shouted at the pair.  
“Where is Chief Dooley?”

When a penny is tossed into the air there is little that can be done to impact the outcome. What happens is out of your hands, you have to step back and allow fate to do its work. When the outcome is menial like which side starts with the ball in a sports match it doesn’t matter too much. But, if that penny is deciding what should happen to you- if it’s deciding your fate and if you see another sunrise, then the stakes are pretty high.  
Chief Dooley had lost his penny toss but that didn’t mean his Agents were giving up on him. Not a chance.  
Leviathan had a plan and so far, they had executed it to perfection. Doctor Ivchenko had managed to get himself into the SSR, buying people’s trust by stabbing his friends in the back (or rather shooting them) and had used his skills to gain information and tactical advantages right under their noses. It would be considered genius if it hadn’t caused so much damage in the process.  
The moment Doctor Ivchenko had realised his ruse was up he had taken drastic measures. Since the moment he arrived he had been working on the Chief, winding him like coil, bending him into shape, keeping sure he was malleable and fit to carry out whatever he needed of him. So, the second he knew the game was up he pulled the pin out of the grenade. Only it didn’t go off right away…

Out in the squad room, the best of the SSR’s scientists were trying to unravel the workings of one of Howard Starks experiments. A theoretical piece of armour that would be bulletproof and double as a heat source. It would be fantastic equipment to have – except it didn’t work. According to Jarvis it was faulty with explosive results that were inevitable as soon as the clasps were locked in place. And locked in place they were… around the torso of Chief Dooley.  
“How you feeling Chief?”  
Thompson’s eyes were full of worry, the Chief meant a lot to him, right from the start Dooley had believed in him, allowed him to work cases. He was a good man. This wasn’t supposed to be how his story ended.  
Leaning against a desk, Chief Dooley looked incredibly uncomfortable and was sweating profusely. The device around him was glowing an angry orange and was only getting brighter. It seemed to emanate heat and was clearly a million times worse when it was trapped on you.  
“I’m burning up. He got inside my head. He made me steal something from the lab. You can’t let him talk to you. If he starts talking to you, he’s got you”  
Using his experience Dooley tried his hardest to impart the knowledge onto his agents, praying they’d fair better than him.

Isabelle was standing beside one of the scientists, examining the armour. Years ago, she had applied for University, hoping to study Chemistry or Biology but had ended up deferring after she had got her powers. Being volatile unable to control your newfound abilities mixed with student life… not a good idea, and then Coulson had appeared with a job offer and she’d never looked back. Except her love for science hadn’t faded over time in a sense it had grown. She always enjoyed listening to the SHIELD scientists explain the mechanisms of a new device or witnessing Tony tinkering in his lab, occasionally throwing in her own two cents. So, now she was trying to work out if there was anything she knew that could help.  
In the background she could hear Thompson questioning if it was possible just to cut the Chief out. She needed to talk to him soon. Worry was eating away at her about their little tiff in the corridor. In perspective it wasn’t a big issue but he had accused her of being the enemy. Evidently despite appearances the SSR didn’t trust her – that would have to change.  
“Let’s pack him with ice perhaps we can cool the core.” Peggy suggested, logically thinking that when something’s hot you need to cool it down, and the best way is ice.  
Jarvis, sounding like an exhausted teacher told her that it would simply not work.  
“What if we provide more heat. Dynamic equilibrium should shift in the reverse direction, force the armour to cool. Right?” Isabelle suggested thinking back on all her science lessons.  
“The armour is designed to be impervious to ALL outside elements. Artillery or temperature.” Jarvis repeated.  
“Damn you Howard.” Cursed Peggy.  
Time was slipping like sand through their fingers and without a solution in sight the device had entered its final stages. The scientist looked confounded.  
“I don’t know what to do.” He confessed, apologetic.  
Thompson snapped back, afraid to lose his mentor. “What’s that mean?”  
“It means I don’t know what to do.”  
From his place at the desk Dooley spoke up having kept quite quiet.  
“I know what to do.”  
Surprised faces turned towards him. Dooley was a good detective but he wasn’t a scientist so they weren’t sure what he had that they’d missed.  
Looking at Thompson he held out his hand.  
“Here give me a hand.”  
As Thompson went to help him up, Chief Dooley grappled with him slightly. Disarming him. The agents around him took a step back.  
“Woah!”

When the chief spoke, his words were full of regret of not patching up the holes in his relationship. Sad that he would never get to see his kids grow up. He looked at Thompson first, the agent he hoped would be his successor, the blond was smart, resourceful and a good agent, maybe one day a great one.  
“Tell my wife I’m sorry I missed dinner.”  
Then he looked at Isabelle, the girl he’d only known a few short days who seemed to be carrying an immense burden but who’d aided in making more headway in two days than they had in weeks. He didn’t know what he wanted to say to her so simply nodded praying it would convey the gratitude he felt that she was helping, that she was on their side.  
Finally, he looked at Peggy. Since he had met her, he had thought of her as nothing but a thorn in his side. How wrong he was.  
“And you, promise me you’ll get the son of a bitch who did this. Say it.”  
With an unsteady voice and tears welling in her eyes Peggy promised.  
“Atta girl.”

With that Chief Dooley turned and ran, gun out in front of him firing shots to smash the glass, and he jumped out. Sacrificing himself but saving his agents in the building. Another casualty in Leviathans sick and twisted game.


	13. Baby Let The Games Begin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter covers events from Season 1 Episode 7: SNAFU

Across the street Sousa had discovered a sniper’s nest where their Russian spy had evidently been communicating from and worrying notes as well as a dead body, when an explosion had erupted over the street between the two buildings. Quickly finishing up his work at the crime scene Sousa returned to the SSR to find out what had happened.

The SSR was solemn. Shards of glass lay scattered across the floor and agents were dotted around the office, tending to wounds and everyone was wearing the same distraught expression.  
“What happened?” Sousa asked as he entered.  
Thompson, who was sitting at his desk staring into the middle distance responded barely looking up. “They got Chief.”

Across the aisle Peggy and Jarvis were standing together, while Isabelle sat on the floor leaning against a desk mindlessly spinning a stapler in her hands.  
“I did this,” Peggy’s voice was full of guilt as she spoke to Jarvis. “Ivchenko brought me to him so I would bring him to the SSR. This is my fault.”  
“No, Miss Carter, this is not your fault. This is Mr Stark’s bloody inventions.”  
Jarvis’ words ignited a spark of hope inside Peggy who was feeling the Chief’s death most keenly.  
Jarvis was right, Isabelle realised, this whole case had been, since the start, about Stark’s inventions. Everyone had been looking for them: Peggy and Jarvis, the SSR, Leviathan, and thanks to Peggy they were safe in the SSR’s custody kept under lock and key… by Chief Dooley.  
Jumping to her feet Isabelle spoke to the agents. “You’re right. Leviathan tasked Leet Branis to steal something.”  
Thompson, Peggy, Sousa and Jarvis all turned to her, realisation starting to form as she continued.  
“What was it?”  
As if she’d been struck by lightning Peggy leapt out of her chair looking at Thompson frantically.  
“The blood!”

The quintet dashed down to the lab, only to find out that Steve’s blood was safe. Untouched by Ivchenko. But Dooley had said before he died that something had been taken.  
“Search every crate.” Thompson ordered, now the interim Chief since he had been Dooley’s second in command.  
All the scientists began looking.  
“Item seventeen is gone.”  
The group turned to Jarvis, the current fountain of knowledge on all things Howard Stark.  
“Alright. What’s that do?” Thompson questioned.  
As perplexed as the rest of the group, Jarvis shrugged. “I have no idea.”  
Now Leviathan were on the loose in New York with a device of unknown capabilities, they could disappear into the shadows and re-emerge at anytime, anywhere to cause mass destruction. 

The group returned to the squad room and Agent Thompson promptly began divvying out tasks to his agents.  
Find Ivchenko. Find Underwood. Find item seventeen. Increase the security measures at the SSR in case they return and reread every report from this investigation. They might have missed something so pool all resources to work out what it was.

It didn’t take long for a call to come in, and as the agents were grabbing their gear to head out Isabelle walked over to Thompson, her hands fiddling with a loose thread on her coat.  
“Agent Thompson?”  
From where he stood giving a quick brief to Peggy and Sousa, Thompson turned his head, his face a blank canvas.  
“Bennet, now’s not a good time.”  
“I’m coming with you.”  
Taken aback by her bluntness, “No, you’re not. This is an SSR investigation and you are not an SSR agent.”  
Behind him Peggy and Sousa shared a look, confused as to why Thompson was suddenly so anti-Isabelle when all they’d seen until now was admiration for her and willingness for her to join in on the investigation. Neither knew of the pair’s tiff earlier in the day and as such were perplexed to why Isabelle’s demeanour was now suddenly cold and defensive.  
“Thompson, she should come. Isabelle has experience in the field, she’ll be of assistance.” Peggy interjected.  
“No. I’m calling the shots. Bennet you either stay here in the office or feel free to leave, I’ll get an agent to escort you out.”

Thompson grabbed his jacket ready to leave only for Isabelle to step round him, blocking his exit.  
“I wasn’t asking Thompson. I’m coming with you. You may have a problem with me but right now you need all hands on deck. You can’t afford to refuse aid because you doubt someone’s abilities.”  
“I don’t doubt your capable Bennet.” Thompson responded to which Isabelle quirked an eyebrow.  
“My issue is that I don’t trust you.”  
“Jack!” Peggy and Sousa’s voices were full of shock behind him which he ignored.  
“All you have done since the moment I met you is lie.” Thompson could feel his voice beginning to rise so took a deep breath to prevent another row, especially in-front of the agents still in the office. He needed to keep his emotions in check.  
“I haven’t lied about anything.” Isabelle counteracted.  
“Really? Is that true? Because we met you same time as Ivchenko and know less about you than him. Bennet I don’t trust you. End of story.”

Brushing past her, Thompson went to leave again only to be interrupted by Peggy.  
“Thompson, you’re making a mistake. I trust Isabelle. Let her come, let her help.”  
Facing the agent, Thompson glanced between her and Isabelle who grabbed his hand before he could leave again.  
Looking him straight in the face Isabelle made a judgement call.  
“Thompson, you don’t trust me and I’m fine with that. Well, no I’m not but I’ll fix that. I promise once we’ve sorted this out, once we return from the theatre, I’ll tell you,” Looking around at Peggy, Sousa and Jarvis, “I’ll tell all of you the truth about me. Who I am, where I’m from. Then once we find Stark, if you can spare him for a short while before you charge him, I’ll ask for his help… that’s why I came to New York with you. For Stark. Then if all goes well, you’ll never have to see me again. Happy? A few days and I’m no longer your problem.”  
As they stared into each other’s eyes both felt something shift. This was a promise both understood could not be taken back. Truth will out.  
Breaking the stare, Thompson looked up at Peggy. “Fine. Bennet comes. But Carter, she’s your responsibility.”

And with that he exited the building with the remainder of the group except Jarvis following in his wake all with varying expressions colouring their features.


	14. They Are The Hunters, We Are The Foxes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place during Season 1 Episode 8: Valediction

The theatre had been taped off and police were standing guard as the car came to a stop. Flashing lights from emergency service vehicles illuminated the night and a warm, welcoming glow was emanating from within the theatre.  
Ducking under the police tape the quartet walked over to a portly man in a suit who had just exited the theatre. His face conveyed an unmaskable horror at whatever lay inside the foyer.  
“You the SSR folks?”  
Flashing his credentials Agent Thompson took charge.  
“What the hell happened here Detective?”  
“Hell if I know.”  
“I’ve got forty-seven dead. Heads bashed in; eyes gouged out. Not a single survivor.”

He led them inside where rows of white-cloths covered the bodies of the victims were layed. The police were documenting the crime scene, taking photos of the victims before respectfully recovering their faces. Isabelle had never seen anything like it. Neither it seemed had her SSR counterparts whose faces all mirrored the shock on her own.  
In the sombre silence that had befallen on the group Peggy’s hushed voice carried.  
“Good Lord.”  
“It’s like some sort of monster got them. I’ve never seen anything like it.” The detective continued.  
Snapping his eyes away from the horror before him Sousa turned to the detective.  
“All this happened inside the theatre?”  
Nodding, the detective led Sousa through leaving Agent Thompson and the girls in the foyer with the bodies.

Getting to work, trying to prove herself useful, Isabelle approached a covered body. Peggy and Thompson came to stand behind her as she knelt beside the head. Pulling the cloth back Isabelle’s stomach lurched. The face was young and would have been handsome if not for the wounds littering it and the mass of blood. Three lines were gouged into the deceased man’s cheek which Isabelle’s hand hovered above, tracing. Gulping when the marks proved too similar to what a scratch from the middle three digits of a hand would look like and upon seeing a perfect bite mark in the victim’s shoulder.

The queasiness in Isabelle’s stomach was growing as Thompson reached forward and pulled the cloth back to reveal a clump of hair inside a clenched fist proving what the Agents were starting to suspect.  
Rising slowly to her feet Isabelle uttered what was running through her mind.  
“No monster killed these people.”  
“They killed each other.” Peggy finished.  
After Thompson pulled the sheet back up, reconcealing the body, him, Peggy and Isabelle walked towards the auditorium where Sousa had entered minutes before. 

Glancing back at the covered bodies Isabelle saw the reality of the world she had entered. It didn’t have megalomaniac norse gods leading alien invasions or flying robots but this, this was worse. History is taught through rose-tinted glasses. The terrible things inflicted on others at the hands of supposedly ‘good’ men were diabolical. It felt like a betrayal. For so long these times, these people had been revered as heroes, legends, champions of what one should aspire to be, to replicate. But, standing there in the theatre with death and destruction all around her, Isabelle could no longer see the golden sepia of supposedly the greatest generation. Just pain and hurt and brokenness. 

A dry, choking cough from within the auditorium snapped her back to the present.  
Agent Sousa was kneeling on the floor clutching the armrest of the aisle seat coughing relentlessly. Thompson dashed towards him side-stepping people who were just gawking at the agent in need.  
“Sousa, Sousa! Hey. What happened?”  
As Thompson got down to his level and put a comforting hand on Sousa’s shoulder, he stopped coughing. Turning his head towards the blond he attacked like a man possessed. Grabbing Thompson’s throat, he pinned him to the floor, his knee trapping his fellow agent and tightening his hands as Thompson struggled to push him away.  
Peggy and Isabelle dashed towards the pair before Sousa could kill the blond.  
“Daniel!” Peggy shouted reaching to grab his arm and pull him off.  
In a manner far removed from his normal behaviour, Sousa elbowed Peggy in the face with such force she tumbled to the ground, before resorting back to choking Thompson whose face was slowly changing colour.  
Grabbing a broken wooden armrest off the ground, Isabelle swung it at the dark-haired agent. The impact of the make-shift baton on the back of his head knocked Sousa unconscious and as he tumbled forward and off Thompson the policemen who’d been watching events unfold rushed in to cuff him now that he was no longer posing a threat to them.

With his fellow agent no longer throttling him, Thompson pushed himself off the ground to a sitting position, massaging his throat as he gasped for breath.  
A glint of silver caught Isabelle’s eye from the ground where Sousa had been before he started hacking. Crouching down, Isabelle removed her jacket and wrapped it around the object, a cannister of sorts. Holding it at arm’s length she read the words embellished on the side: ‘Stark Industries’. Evidently their stolen item. Surveying the room Isabelle took in the damage the small gas cannister had caused and began to ponder what Leviathan had planned; this was surely not the big attack, something else must be brewing. But what?  
As Peggy accompanied the handcuffed, unconscious Sousa out of the auditorium, Agent Thompson came to stand beside Isabelle. He had got his breath back but as he spoke his voice caught slightly, the words causing him pain from the attack.  
“Thank you.”  
“Anytime. I’ve got the cannister – item seventeen.” Isabelle responded, holding up her jacket which was tightly wrapped around the device.  
As the pair exited the theatre together, Thompson stole a subtle glance. Her actions and her loyalties had always been on their side, and she’d just saved his life; guilt was eating away at him, his actions earlier in the day had been unwarranted. He’d add it to the list of things he needed to make up to her. But as they walked away from the crime scene he couldn’t help but admire her fire and the way the flashing police lights made her look ethereal. 

Back at the SSR, Agent Thompson sat perched on the edge of a desk, his mind replaying the events from the day. A never-ending film reel in his head. Dooley and then the bodies and then Sousa, and the elusive Stark. His head was spinning.  
“Penny for your thoughts.”  
A British accent snapped him out of his thoughts making him look up.  
Standing in front of him Isabelle looked remarkably well composed. She’d ditched her jacket and let her hair down and overall, she appeared unfazed by the events they’d witnessed, a façade she had down to a t. But Thompson noticed how she was fiddling with a loose thread on her jumper: he doubted she was even aware that she was doing it.  
“Who does that? Who makes a gas that turns people into raging monsters?”  
Taking a seat beside the blond agent, Isabelle saw for the first time just how scared he was. Looking at him, she noticed small pink marks peeking out from under his shirt collar, the tell-tale sign of new bruises. Evidently, Sousa was stronger than he looked.  
“Someone who doesn’t realise that’s what it does.”  
Thompson looked at her in shock. “You’re defending him? Stark made that gas whether he meant to or not and now people are dead.”  
Isabelle’s voice was calm as she responded. “I’m not defending anyone. We don’t have the whole story. What we do know is that Doctor Ivchenko and Dottie Underwood murdered Chief Dooley and a theatre full of innocent civilians. And for what? What’s it got them?”  
Thompson looked pensive, feeling as if he was being tested. “Our attention.”  
“Exactly. They’re playing a game of chess. Everything has been thought out, everything’s strategic.”  
Thompson nodded along, everything Isabelle was saying made sense.  
“So, what’s their end game?”  
“Hell if I know. But he’s been inside our heads, now is the time to get in theirs. Look your coffee is getting cold, you start whipping your men into shape, start to get a plan going and I’ll brew another pot.”  
With that Isabelle stood and grabbed Thompson’s half-finished cup. Before she could leave though Thompson stopped her, his eyes wide, full of things he wanted to say but didn’t have the nerve to.  
“Bennet.”  
“Yeah?”  
“Thank you.” Thompson’s voice was full of sincerity and a warmth that he had never addressed her with before making her smile.

Unbeknownst to Isabelle a small smile flickered onto Thompson’s face as she walked away. He couldn’t fathom why she was being so kind to him after all the accusations he had thrown her way; he had been so sure he had destroyed any friendship they had but her attitude was igniting a flame of hope inside him. Maybe all was not lost. Perhaps one day Isabelle Bennet would be his friend again.

Rallying his agents around the desk he sat perched on, Thompson began his debrief.  
“Best the scientists can figure, it’s a chemical that induces psychosis upon exposure. Which I can personally attest to after Sousa tried to bite my nose off.”  
As if on cue Peggy and Sousa re-entered the squad room, Sousa appeared a little under the weather but otherwise seemed in good health considering he had been exposed to an unknown gas.  
Quirking one of his trademark cheeky smirks Thompson greeted the agents.  
“Hey Killer.”  
“I’m surprised Howard would consent to manufacturing something like that.” Peggy’s voice cut across the squad room.  
“The amount that got me was tiny.” Sousa’s words had a trace of fear to them as he spoke.  
From where she stood by the brewing pot of coffee Isabelle chimed in.  
“How much of the stuff does Ivchenko have?”  
“The lab counted ten cannisters.” Thompson responded before turning to his agents again. “Meaning Ivchenko has enough to send half the city into a homicidal rage.”  
The simple statement sent a ripple through the group before him. Any use of the cannisters could be catastrophic and they didn’t know where to start.  
“But why? Why go to all that trouble?” Peggy’s voice was clear and broke through the commotion. The brunette was perhaps one of very few who, if not the only one, who was looking at the situation clearly. No distractions. No prejudices.  
“Because he’s a Russian jerk with a chip on his shoulder. Why else?” Thompson evidently wasn’t on Peggy’s wave-length, only seeing what was infront of him not the larger picture.  
“No. It’s got to be something else.”  
Isabelle rejoined the group, expanding on Peggy’s point.  
“There has to be something specific that he’s targeting.”  
“We just have to find out what it is.” Peggy finished.  
As the case was progressing the two women were getting more in sync. As the group sent looks at each other praying someone would have a lightbulb moment a new voice chimed in, causing every head to turn.  
“The target is me.”

There, right in front of Isabelle’s eyes was Howard Stark. Tony’s father. The founder of Stark Industries. The movement of everyone around her and the words they were saying became like background noise as she took him in. There were similarities at first glance between him and his son and just looking at the man sent a pang of longing through Isabelle. It was as if she was frozen. This man might be the key to her getting home, the cure to this agony she was in. The answer she’d been waiting for. He was shorter than she thought he would be.

The office had settled down considerably since Mr Stark’s impromptu arrival and he was currently in the briefing room with Agents Thompson, Sousa, Carter and Mr Jarvis. Isabelle had hung back on the initial interview to gather her thoughts and prepare herself for what she had to do, what she could no longer shy away from. Grabbing her bag from by Thompson’s desk she entered the briefing room where the group were crowded round photographs and files from a box marked ‘Finou’.  
Currently Mr Stark was describing the existence of the gas from the theatre, Midnight Oil, as it was termed.  
“The army wanted something that would keep soldiers awake for days at a time, but it failed. Caused symptoms similar to sleep deprivation: anger, hallucinations, psychosis.”  
“If you knew all that why use it at Finou?” Sousa questioned.  
Grabbing a file from on the desk Isabelle began reading through Stark’s research and evaluations while the men bickered.  
“I didn’t. My lab was raided. The took my samples, my research, all under the orders of General McGuiness. The next day they dropped it on the Russians to help them take Finou. I flew there afterwards to see with my own eyes… what those men did to each other … you can’t imagine.” Stark’s words dripped with guilt and hurt at the damage his creations had done.  
“We don’t need to imagine. We saw it in that theatre, I experienced it myself.”  
Stark looked at Sousa in shock “You survived? It’s been known to cause asphyxiation.”  
“I guess that explains my sore throat.”  
“It also explains our voiceless friends. Someone performed laryngotomy on these men. I assume it was Doctor Ivchenko.” Peggy cut in.  
“Or as he’s also known, Yohan Fehnhoff.” Isabelle said reading the file that Stark had on him.  
Though from the look Stark was wearing one he had most likely never read.  
“A psychiatrist with a speciality in hypnosis.” Isabelle added extra emphasis onto the last word.  
At this point she really felt she’d seen it all. Though the name ‘Fehnhoff’ sounded familiar from somewhere that she couldn’t quite place, but as she tried Stark and Thompson began formulating a plan to catch him.  
“I’ll be the bait. The SSR just needs to set the trap.” Stark stated.  
Thompson nodding in agreement lent in. “Yeah, something public…real showy.”  
“Well, that’s the only way I do it.” 

As the wheels were put into motion, Isabelle gathered the group around, she felt that these five people she could trust completely and they got ready to hear her tale.


	15. Threw Out Our Cloaks And Our Daggers Because It's Morning Now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place during Season 1 Episode 8: Valediction

Sitting in the briefing room Isabelle could feel her heart beating double time. Before they’d left for the crime scene, she had made Agent Thompson a promise, now she would deliver. Her truth would sound insane she knew that. She was also aware that she would have to be incredibly careful about what she divulged – spoilers and all, it would not be wise to tell too much in case it caused a butterfly effect and a change in the timeline.  
Around the table, the group were sat. Peggy to her right with Mr Stark and Jarvis on her left, directly across sat Agents Thompson and Sousa.

Taking a deep breath, Isabelle began.

“Since we met in Europe and then since I’ve returned, you have all expressed curiosity in who I am. Where I am from. How I know the things I know.”  
At this she looked up at Thompson and saw hunger for answers written across his features, an expression mirrored on the other occupants of the room.  
“For the most part I have been secretive. Only telling you, or showing you, what was necessary. Nothing more, nothing less. But if we are to stop whatever Leviathan have planned, then you all deserve some answers. We all need to trust one another.”  
Isabelle reached behind her and lifted her duffel off the floor. As she unzipped it the group leaned in. Grabbing her I.D from the top she went on.  
“My name is Isabelle Caitlin Bennet. And I was born on August 5th 1989.”  
At this she paused and slid her I.D over to Thompson who tentatively picked it up. The group were stunned; you could hear a pin drop.  
Mr Stark’s voice cut through the silence like a knife.  
“1989? You’re from the future?”  
Thompson examining the I.D badge in his hands confirmed that the piece of plastic said the same thing. As he passed it to Sousa he looked up at Isabelle and it was as if he was seeing her for the first time. 

Then rapid-fire questions began.  
“What year are you from? What’s it like in the future? How did you get here? Do you have any more proof than this?”  
It was tricky to suppress a smile, but somehow Isabelle managed, as she rummaged through her duffel to locate the envelope of photographs. Inside was one she knew would be sufficient.  
As she held the photo in her hand, a lump rose into her throat, the smiling girl in the picture had become all but a memory these past few years. 

_The park was incredible, flags from countries across the world were being flown and a symphony of a million different dialects was being carried through the air. The family of five squeezed their way through the bustling crowds looking for the entrance to the large stadium, Union Jacks painted on their cheeks and printed on the shirts they wore. It was not often that they all got to go to events together now that all three children had flown the coop but this - they wouldn’t miss this for the world.  
A tall man with slightly greying hair and a smile bright enough to light up New York, called out to the three young adults walking together in front of him.  
“Wait, kids hold up, let me get a photo of you all.”  
The three turned round with laughter in their eyes to face their father who had already pulled out his camera.  
Jostling, they obliged his request standing with their arms wrapped around each-others waists. The tallest child, a red-head wearing thick round glasses, held a flag in his hand which he’d just bought emblazoned with the year of the event. A souvenir to mark the occasion.  
Isabelle’s father instructed her mother, an elegant woman with striking eyes, to join the photo as well. She walked over standing beside her only daughter in the centre with her two sons on either side.  
As he began taking photos, a young girl, probably no more than fifteen approached and offered to take one for him of the entire family. Handing her his camera he joined the group standing on the other side of his daughter. The two sons held the flag out in front of the group so it was on full display, while the stadium took up the background.  
“On the count of three say ‘Cheese.’_”

Isabelle’s father had given her a copy of the photo once it had been printed and she took it with her on every mission, every trip, everywhere. It was the only photo she carried of her family as a whole. She had only two others of them with her. One of her and her parents at her older brother’s wedding a month before Sokovia and one of her and her brothers after the younger one had graduated from university. Looking at it now, she could feel tears starting to well in her eyes so she quickly handed it to Peggy, in order to regain composure.

“London 2012.” Peggy read off the flag being held by Isabelle’s brothers.  
“2012, wow. Sorry. I get you were born in the eighties but wow, the 21st Century.” Sousa’s voice was full of unrepressed awe as he looked at the photo Peggy had passed him.  
Thompson admired the picture in Sousa’s hands, taking in the five smiling faces.  
“You look really happy. How long ago was this?” Thompson’s voice was calm and sincere as he addressed Isabelle, a complete juxtaposition to the day before.  
“Three years ago. My parents got tickets to the Olympics which were being held in London, so me and my brothers went with them. It was a really good experience, a break from the crazy at work.”  
Mr Stark, listening intently piped up as he looked at the photograph that was now in Jarvis’s hands.  
“Three years ago, so you’re from 2015?”  
To this Isabelle nodded. “The day I left, or time travelled, or whatever way you want to phrase it was May 6th 2015.”  
A low whistle escaped Thompson. 

Jarvis, still looking at the photograph, spotted something that Isabelle herself hadn’t realised was there, a faint mark across her right cheekbone, a nearly healed scar.  
“Miss Bennet, may I ask, the mark on your cheek in this photograph, how did you obtain it?”  
Eyebrows shooting up, Isabelle took the photograph from him and noticed the mark in question, tracing the line on her cheek as she stared at the image.  
“Woah, Mr Jarvis you’re eagle-eyed. I hadn’t even realised I still had a mark there. Three months later, gosh. Errm, work? I can’t say any more than that. It was actually while I was at work that I travelled back in time.”  
Every head turned to Isabelle in intrigue.  
“I’m part of a highly specialised, highly trained team. There is no-one else like us on the planet.  
Some of us have abilities, such as myself, others have backgrounds that set them apart from the crowd. Like my team-mate who used to be a Russian assassin slash spy, hence my knowledge of the red room training facility back in Europe. The group was officially instated a few months before this photo was taken but the idea had been around for years.  
While out on a mission recently, things went sideways, we knew we were heading into a fire fight, but things escalated in a way we couldn’t have foreseen, and, errm…well me and my teammate made a decision; we both knew there was a high possibility we wouldn’t live to see tomorrow if we succeeded but we did it anyway… then I woke up here in 1946. That’s my story.”

Looking around the room following her story Isabelle could sense a palpable shift in how they thought of her. She sensed it may actually be for the better.  
The lingering silence was agitating her slightly though.  
“Is anyone gonna say something?” A hint of playfulness coloured Isabelle’s words and brought the rest of the group back to reality.

It was Sousa who spoke first. “What do you mean by abilities?”  
Glancing at Peggy who had already seen her powers Isabelle shrugged her shoulders and aimed her hand at the glass of water on the table. Focusing she began to make it shake and warble, a skill that had taken a very long time to master. Then she closed her other fist and flames enveloped it, creating a golden glow.  
Noises of admiration and shock came from those who hadn’t known before about it, while Peggy watched smiling, thoroughly intrigued and perhaps a little jealous at the awesome ability her new friend had.  
“Bennet, that is incredible. Hold up, it was you who made the ground shake and all those soldiers fly backwards in Europe wasn’t it.”  
It was like a puzzle piece falling into place, Thompson had thought there was something special about the escape from Europe and the way Isabelle had conducted herself. This confirmed it.  
Raising her hands Isabelle laughed.  
“Guilty as charged.”  
At that moment as Thompson and Isabelle sat smiling at each other across the table an agent popped their head into the room, informing Thompson that everything was set up for Stark’s press conference trap.  
The agents exited the room with Isabelle in tow, leaving behind Mr Stark and Jarvis to get their orders for the sting.

Just as the group set to leave the SSR Isabelle grabbed Stark by the arm and pulled him to one side.  
“Well Miss Bennet this is very forward. Though I do like the vibe you’ve got going. Want to pop into a broom closet for five minutes before we leave?”  
Stark wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and was standing so close to Isabelle she could smell his expensive cologne.  
“Gross. Eww, no. Look, I need your help.”  
Stark pouting slightly cocked his head to the side, questioning.  
“The 1940’s are fascinating, but I don’t belong here. When this is done, will you help me get home. You’re the only person smart enough to be of any help. Please. I want to see my friends and family again. I want to be where I belong. I miss my life, my home. Will you help me?”  
Patting her on the arm, Stark promised he’d do his best to figure it all out, before admiring the gauntlets that Isabelle had put on as a precaution.  
“Sweet gauntlets. What are they for?”  
Holding her arm up so he could examine it closer as they walked Isabelle began chatting with him. It felt easy, somehow.  
“My friend made them for me. When I use my powers too much it hurts. The number of fractures and burns I had when I first got my powers was unbelievable, so these absorb some of the wasted energy, protect me from self-induced injury.”  
Nodding along, Stark stroked the outer surface. Feeling the cool metal.  
“What are they made from?”  
“A combination of metals. Vibranium and a material I cannot disclose because of spoilers for the future and all.”  
Sending a wink at the inventor, Isabelle and Stark laughed. A fast friendship was forming. 

Agent Thompson stood across the squad room giving instructions to the last of his men when he heard laughter. Looking up he saw Isabelle and Stark standing incredibly close, his hand on her arm, their bodies almost touching.  
Isabelle’s confession had sent his head spinning.  
The woman wouldn’t be born for another forty years, the world she occupied was almost seven decades into his future. He supposed it made sense in a way, that she wasn’t from this time, that she was from some foreign place, but still…  
Seeing her laughing with Stark made his stomach coil. He didn’t like the man particularly; thought he was a bit of a slime ball. But something about how the way Isabelle had taken to him right off the bat, he didn’t know what the feeling was; he just knew he didn’t like it.  
Raising his voice, Thompson called out.  
“Stark, you’re with me. Bennet, you’re covering the rooftops so you ride with Sousa. Okay everybody, Let’s move out!”


	16. I've Been The Archer, I've Been The Prey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Events from this chapter occur during Season 1 Episode 8: Valediction.

When the group arrived outside the courthouse for the press conference, they split up taking up different positions, Peggy was in the crowd monitoring the people on the ground with Sousa, while Thompson was delivering a speech and conducting the events up on the podium besides Stark, and Isabelle was on overwatch with a snipers rifle.  
As Isabelle lay on the roof of the building above the podium, out of sight, she scanned the surrounding rooftops and the crowd for any suspicious activity. Peggy was confident that dangling Stark as bait would lure out Ivchenko or Fehnhoff to use his real name. But looking through her scope, Isabelle could see nothing amiss.

Thompson’s voice carried clear and crisp over the bustle. News reporters and Photographers standing before him like animals at feeding time, clamouring for scraps.  
“After a thorough investigation we have concluded that Howard Stark is innocent of the theft and sale of weapons to foreign enemies. All charges against Mr Stark have been dropped. We owe Mr Stark a tremendous debt of gratitude, and his assistance in our current investigation is invaluable. He is a hero to all Americans.”  
It was risky, using a press conference as a trap, too many civilians that could be used as targets. The doctor and Dottie had both already displayed their nonchalance at attacking innocents, but this was the plan they just had to keep sure the streets didn’t get turned to rivers of red.  
And also, keep Stark alive – but that was a given.

“Are all the rooftops covered.” Peggy’s voice came crackling through the radio at Isabelle’s side  
Affirmative answers responded from each agent positioned, and scanning the horizon through her scope, only SSR personnel were in place. No foreign enemies. No Dottie Underwood. No Doctor Fehnhoff.  
Peggy sounded determined when she responded, and down on the ground she clutched her weapon tightly.  
“They’re here somewhere, I know it.”

Agent Thompson continued to deliver his speech but was growing frustrated at the eccentric millionaire who was mumbling prompts of compliments in his ear.  
“We are humbled… here’s Howard Stark”  
As he stepped aside, Isabelle held back a snort of laughter. The irritation in his voice was as plain as day. Clearly it was a Stark family trait to get under people’s skin, as Thompson’s tone was almost a perfect mimic of one that would seep into Steve’s voice after discussions with Tony. 

When Stark took to the podium, Isabelle went on high alert. If her senses had been on a hundred percent before then with the bait in place they had doubled.  
Continuing to look through her scope she could almost hear Clint whispering in her ear: _“Relax your shoulders and breathe steady. A long-distance hostile will conceal themselves well but they can’t hide completely. Focus. Inhale, exhale. Remember what I said before. Small discrepancies. Always triple check. They’ll be there.”_

“Too long the name Howard Stark has been dragged through the mud. Today is a day of reckoning to anyone who doubts …”  
Stark’s voice was determined, and arrogance coiled like a snake around his words. But as he spoke a distinctive noise sounded. The echo of smashing glass below sent Isabelle’s nerves up.  
No one else was allowed to die on her watch.  
Breathing deeply Isabelle scoured the opposite buildings for the shooter. She was sure she hadn’t missed any person out of place. No rogue sniper… but sometimes you’re wrong.

“Who’s got eyes on the shooter?”  
Thompson’s voice was authoritative over the radio and Isabelle couldn’t help the way her heart squeezed a little less upon hearing his voice. He was okay; and given the fact he hadn’t mentioned Stark she could assume his was fine as well.  
Another shot rang out.  
A glint of metallic silver caught Isabelle’s eye as Peggy confirmed her suspicion.  
“They’re shooting from the hotel.”  
Looking through her scope, Isabelle located the sniper’s nest. She noticed the weapon but nobody appeared to be firing.

Standing outside the hotel room door the trio of Thompson, Peggy and Isabelle drew their weapons ready to be met with hostility.  
Kicking down the door, Thompson took charge. But nothing, no shouts, no gunfire came.  
Isabelle headed straight to the rifle positioned at the window and unloaded it so it’d do no more damage. While Thompson and Peggy checked the vacant room, she began examining it.  
Exiting the bathroom Thompson poised the question they were all wondering.  
“Where are they?”  
“This rifle was rigged to fire itself. They’re long gone.” Isabelle responded, looking through the scope.  
“Strange.”  
Noting the changed tone in Isabelle’s voice, Thompson wandered over. “What’s that?”  
Double checking what she thought, Isabelle turned to look at Thompson and Peggy who were eyeing her quizzically.  
“Either Dottie is a terrible shot, or this gun was never supposed to kill Stark. It’s aimed well above the podium.”  
Almost as if a lightbulb had been turned on in her head Peggy blurted out, “It’s a diversion”  
“A diversion from what?” Thompson questioned, but nobody had any idea.  
Almost as though he could hear their brains churning Sousa’s voice came through the radio.  
“All agents, Stark’s been grabbed. He’s in a police car heading west.”

The trio vacated the Hotel and headed down to the street, which for the most part had cleared of photographers and journalists.  
Thompson wasn’t happy. It seemed like they’d been played by Stark.  
Again.  
“So now we gotta tell the whole world we’re chumps, they’ve been planning this whole thing since the beginning.”  
“No. They couldn’t have. Could they? Kidnapping Howard couldn’t have been part of their original plan; they didn’t know he was here until the press conference.”  
Isabelle’s voice interrupted his thoughts of what he was going to do to Stark once they caught him - again. Throttling him was seeming like a good idea. But her words drew him to a halt. He turned to face the two women, ready for any ideas they had.  
“So, if they don’t want him dead, what do they want?”  
“Howard said Fehnhoff wants to punish him; whatever they’ve got planned must be a fate worse than death. We need to determine what his next target is.”Peggy stated  
“The movie house was a test, so they’ve got to be planning something bigger. The Statue of Liberty? The Empire State?”  
Thompson began logically working through the tourist hotspots, recalling the theatre and thinking where would cause the most damage.  
Peggy was looking at him and thinking along the same lines. But, Isabelle was watching something over his left shoulder. A couple walking with jovial faces and small American flags held in their hands.  
Truman had become President the previous April, and July 4th wasn’t for a while. She was sure she’d arrived in 1946 back in March so unless there was another big event, a national holiday or something worth celebrating soon it didn’t make sense. Then it hit her like a ton of bricks. A colossal event that would have occurred almost a year ago for these people that would warrant the flags.  
In her realisation Isabelle’s voice was full of urgency.  
“What day is it?”  
Thompson responded without a moment’s hesitation. “May 8th.” Then turning his head, he took in the people with their flags and laughing faces. “VE Day!”  
“They’re going to hit Time’s Square.” 

Agent Sousa and Peggy were standing with Jarvis in a dead-end alley by the abandoned police vehicle from which Stark had disappeared. Isabelle heard Sousa explain how Dottie and Stark had been seen heading towards Lincoln Tunnel while she made her way over.  
“They’re trying to leave the city? Why?”  
Isabelle questioned as she neared the group, questioning why they’d go further from their assumed target when they had a short time to strike for full efficiency, that didn’t make sense to her.  
Turning to face her, Sousa shrugged. “Maybe we were wrong about the target?”  
“No, my gut says that’s the one, there’s some other reason.” Peggy responded.

As they pondered the possibilities of why you would go away from your target Agent Thompson joined them, annoyance besmirching his features which Isabelle no longer denied were handsome.  
“Just talked to every muckity muck in the city, trying to call off the VE day celebration. They won’t do it. Already a hundred thousand people packed into Times Square. We won’t have enough time to evacuate.” He informed them.  
The stakes were stratospherically high.  
“He could’ve stashed those cannisters anywhere.” Sousa stated.  
Musing out loud, Peggy ran through what Stark had told them about Midnight oil. “The gas was designed to be deployed by air…”  
“Which is why we’ve shut down all the airports and every private airfield in the area.” Thompson said cutting across her.  
Suddenly Jarvis who until now had been uncharacteristically quiet, exclaimed. “I think I know where Doctor Fehnhoff is headed.”  
“Where?”  
Isabelle turned her head to face him so sharply she was pretty sure she’d got whiplash. But he didn’t notice only turning grey as he looked directly at Thompson.  
“If his intention is to place the blame for the attack on Mr Stark, would it not be most effective to use one of Mr Stark’s own planes?”  
As questions go, it was extremely logical and the other four of the group were mildly ashamed that even though they were the trained agents/ the avenger, they hadn’t posed the option first.  
“They can’t. We confiscated them all.” Thompson said, shaking his head, but internally thinking that so far, they’d infiltrated and stolen from the SSR and kidnapped Stark from under their noses so maybe they were ballsy enough to try and steal a plane as well.  
Under his breath Jarvis murmured “Not all.” Looking at his shoes guiltily.  
The comment was heard by the entire group and a rather frightening look was sent the Butler’s way from Agent Thompson.  
“Hmm?”  
“There is another vault, considerably larger than the first.”  
Jarvis’ declaration elicited an eye roll from Isabelle. She’d personally known Howard Stark for less than a day and he seemed just the type who’d manage to hide an entire air hangar from a federal agency despite being wanted for espionage and treason. Also, why did he need so many planes, wasn’t one or two enough?

The two SSR cars pulled up to Stark’s airfield just in time to see him take off headed towards the city.  
“Howard!” Peggy screamed into the night part of her hoping he’d hear and turn back. But she was to receive no such luck.

The agents began arming themselves with weapons from the car. Underwood and Fehnhoff would be close, they needed to be ready.  
“How long until he reaches New York?” Peggy’s voice was full of worry for her friend. Fehnhoff had to have manipulated him somehow, just like with the Chief, to convince him to fly a plane full of deadly gas straight towards a civilian population.  
“Twelve minutes, maybe less.” Sousa said glancing at his watch.  
“Maybe we could talk him down?” Thompson suggested.  
Looking up from her gauntlet that she’d been adjusting, Isabelle quirked an eyebrow.  
“Think he’d listen?”  
“Chief did.”  
And though Thompson wouldn’t admit it, Stark might be easier to talk round depending on what weakness the doctor had exploited. For once Stark’s hubris may prove useful.

Eyes sparkling with hope and determination, Peggy turned towards Jarvis the resident expert on the hangar’s layout.  
“Radio room?”  
“Second floor of the hangar.”  
Nodding and about to set off, Peggy turned to the group. “I need someone to take one of those planes up.”  
“Why?”  
Peggy only responded with a pointed look.  
Sousa looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. His voice full of disbelief at what Peggy was suggesting.  
“Shoot him down? With a plane full of poisonous gas?”  
“We’d have to do it over the water, before he reaches land.” Isabelle responded, a lump forming in her stomach. They couldn’t fail. Howard Stark had to survive.

Glancing between the two English women Sousa released a breath. “Jeez. Well, I’m not your guy. I’ve never flown a plane before.”  
“Likewise.” Thompson responded, before turning to look at Isabelle.  
With three sets of eyes on her Isabelle shook her head.  
“I’ve never flown anything like these. I’m a quick learner but I need more time than what we’ve got.”  
Jarvis’s voice spoke low and forceful. “I’ll do it.”  
Everybody turned to him in shock. Jarvis was a good man, everyone there knew he was possibly the best of them. The blood he may have had on his hands from his time in the army, was a speck in comparison to the rest of them, his ‘crimes’ were also far more honourable.  
“Mr Jarvis, I can’t ask this of you.” Peggy pleaded; she didn’t want him to live with this on his conscience should it come to it.  
His face a steely mask he brushed her off.  
“Mr Stark would want to be stopped by any means possible. We have little time.”  
Looking into his eyes, Peggy conceded.  
“Help him get off the ground.” She ordered the rest of the group before running off in the direction of the radio room.


	17. Who Knows If I Never Showed Up What Could've Been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The events of this chapter occur during the Season 1 finale: Valediction

As the wheels left the ground and the plane soared into the dark, it felt like sand running through the fingers. No more could events be moulded and shaped, they could only be experienced. For better or worse Isabelle had no choice but to be herself and do what she believed to be right. If Peggy gave Jarvis the order then the embers that would fall would be a perfect representation of the world she knew disintegrating around her.  
But it couldn’t come to that. It mustn’t.

Side by side with the two SSR agents Isabelle began heading towards the hangar, her fate completely in someone else’s hands. A peculiar and rather unpleasant feeling: sitting around waiting, hoping that somebody else would fix all the problems for you.  
A crackling sound over the radio in Thompson’s hand pulled Isabelle out of her thoughts.  
“Fehnhoff escaped the radio room.” Peggy’s voice informed the trio.  
Sharing a look with his companions Thompson held the radio up and responded that they’d sort it. He hadn’t liked being stuck on the ground, tethered to the side lines while others did his job for him. At least now he could try to bring justice and closure to the Dooley shaped hole that had been blown into this fiasco.  
With the knowledge that Fehnhoff was somewhere inside the hangar, the most feasible way of capturing him was splitting up. One against three meant the odds were stacked in their favour, unless Dottie Underwood appeared and decided to tango with them too.  
Taking point, Sousa turned to the others with a plan. “I’ll go round back, Isabelle, there’s a side entrance that leads out to the runway.”  
“Got it.” She nodded, before going to walk in that direction.  
As the trio began splitting up, Thompson stopped them. Hearing Dooley desperately pleading to him in his mind, so vividly he knew the words would haunt him for the rest of his life. He couldn’t lose anyone else. Especially not people he respected and considered his friends, even if he didn’t show it.  
“Sousa, Bennet, don’t let him talk. If he talks, you’re dead.” His voice was steady not betraying the queasy feeling taking root in his stomach as he watched them walk away.  
“You too Jack.” Sousa responded.  
Isabelle sent him a curt nod before squaring her shoulders and heading towards the side entrance. Watching her retreating figure Thompson summoned his courage and entered the hangar.

With his shotgun in his hands and his heart beating in his chest like a mariachi drummer Thompson looked around the vast hangar. He had to give it to Stark the man had some nice things. The planes and cars all parked up were something else entirely, despite being a gauche display of wealth, it did whisper something else about the type of person Stark was but before Thompson could dwell too much on what it said a metallic clanging echoed around the space.  
Subtle.  
No person would dare drop or knock anything over if they didn’t intend to draw attention to themselves.  
As he bent down to pick up a crowbar lying on the floor a sudden thwack collided with the back of his skull. Involuntarily Thompson fell to the cold ground, glimpsing Doctor Fehnhoff taking his gun and standing over him, through his eyelashes as he lost his grip on the world around him; and then all went dark.

The walk to the side entrance was longer than Isabelle had anticipated and keeping her mind clear of intrusive thoughts was difficult as the inky night surrounded her. It had been a very long time since she’d been solo while on a mission, usually they’d be in pairs. Maybe the last time she’d split up to entrap an enemy was that Hydra base…  
Gosh, getting Loki’s sceptre felt so long ago. But even then, she’d not truly been alone; Tony was there for air support and comms meant nobody was far away, they could always communicate. Working a mission like this felt lonely.  
Every essence of Isabelle’s soul ached for her friends, to see her family, her team, hell even the nosy barista at her local Starbucks again. She didn’t know who she was without all that. Without the avengers. Without Shield. Without the constant buzz. She didn’t want to find out. She needed to go home like she needed to breathe.  
“Umph!”  
Just as Isabelle reached the entrance a body collided with her, nearly knocking her over. As the air slipped out of her mouth, she looked into a pair of cold blue eyes that swirled with something familiar.  
Face to face the two women sized each other up.  
The blonde had a height advantage, tall and willowy she could easily be a supermodel, but as Isabelle truly looked at her, she eyed the placement of a hand against a bleeding side. Should Isabelle attempt to engage, the wound would swing the pendulum in her direction. It would be over before it had begun. There was no fun in that fight.  
Catching Dottie Underwood, the blonde Russian in front of her was important. Isabelle could not deny that. She had as much a hand in everything unfolding as Fehnhoff but something in Isabelle, some unfathomable instinct made her not want to take her down. Maybe it was seeing a woman confident and intelligent, unafraid to bend the line and break the rules. Or maybe it was the haunting eyes.  
Either way Isabelle had a choice.

From within the hangar, she could hear voices. Fehnhoff and Sousa. Not hearing Thompson, who should’ve been there as well having entered first, she began to worry. The goading nature of Fehnhoff’s voice, how it seemed he was egging Sousa on to do something did little to quell that fear.  
As Isabelle hesitated, swaying on the edge of the precipice, weighing out the two options, Dottie began backing away. Limping slightly, but turning when she was far enough out of reach that Isabelle would have to move forwards to even attempt a form of takedown.  
Then as if she’d been punched in the stomach it came to Isabelle. The look in Dottie’s eyes. The hunger and the ghosts and the fear and the look of being lost. Isabelle had seen that look before in a pair of green eyes, in Wanda Maximoff’s eyes. Hell she’d seen it in her own eyes.  
She didn’t even notice herself doing it until the words had left her mouth but Isabelle called out.  
“Wait. Underwood, Stop.”  
By some miracle she did, but as she turned around she was readying herself for a fight. Her voice almost melodic was menacing.  
“What are you going to do? Kill me? I won’t let you arrest me.”  
Not even reaching for the weapon Thompson had practically forced into her hands Isabelle unbuttoned the jacket she was wearing, a gorgeous navy that Peggy had lent her. Maybe it was instinct, seeing someone hurt; but Isabelle didn’t even register her movements just flicked her eyes between Dottie’s bleeding side and her face that was avid with interest. As Isabelle removed her blouse, she noted Dottie’s eyes widen and if she didn’t feel like she was floating out of her body Isabelle may have laughed.  
Holding the blouse between her teeth Isabelle redressed herself in the jacket and walked towards Dottie the same way one would approach a wounded animal. Cautiously.  
Removing the belt from around her waist Isabelle put a hand to Dottie’s bleeding side and ripped the blouse. Using the belt and blouse to create a bandage she applied a field torniquet.  
As Isabelle dressed the wound on her side, Dottie couldn’t remove her eyes from her. The way she was delicate and caressing the injury with such tenderness was unfathomable. Dottie couldn’t understand it.  
Fehnhoff’s voice trickling out of the hangar was getting more intense and the tail lights on the horizon were barely visible, the planes are almost at their destination. Time was running out.  
Quickly removing her hand from the Russian’s side, Isabelle stood back and looked her straight in the face.  
“Well, why are you still here? Go!”  
Without another word Dottie darted off. Limping slightly less than before. The dressing providing a comfort that she hadn’t previously had.  
As Isabelle went into the hangar, she missed the curious glance sent her way by the blonde assassin intrigued by this peculiar British woman.

“Focus. Point your weapon at Agent Thompson and pull the trigger.” Fehnhoff’s voice sounds almost excited as Isabelle pulled open the door.  
From the doorway she can just about see Thompson on the ground, completely at the Doctor’s mercy, with Sousa pointing a gun at Fehnhoff who was smiling like the cat who got the cream.  
Pleading Thompson tried to get through to the dark-haired agent. “Sousa look at me. Don’t listen to him.”

The fear in Thompson’s voice ignites something within Isabelle who rushed in to the hangar further so that her eyeline is clear, only to see Sousa shift his weapon towards the agent on the ground. Fehnhoff is smiling wickedly but all Isabelle can see is flashes of what is about to happen. Of Sousa pulling the trigger and Thompson falling further to the ground, blood pouring out of his chest like a glass of spilled wine. Of the light in his eyes dwindling before she can reach him. Of his threaded pulse under her fingers. Of someone else dying because she was too slow.

Heart pounding wildly in her chest and she could barely hear was being said. All she can think of is that Fehnhoff needs to be stopped. Raising her right arm outwards she aims it straight for the doctor. The whole hangar shook as she let her powers fly. Quaking, probably more forcefully than she needed to, Isabelle blew Fehnhoff off his feet. Thrown across the room he collided with the wall before slumping to the floor, unconscious.

Both Sousa and Thompson glance Isabelle’s way, looks of amazement on their features and nothing but relief on her own. The boys are okay. Thompson still on the floor leans back, relieved as Sousa reaches up to his ears and removes cotton wool. Evidently he had the foresight to block his hearing.  
“Had he been saying something?” Sousa jokes, nodding his head in Fehnhoff’s general direction as Isabelle walked over. His face plastered with a grin as Thompson pulled a face.  
“You son of a bitch.”  
Catching each other’s eyes Isabelle and Sousa laugh in response. Isabelle definitely liked Sousa she thought as he made his way over to cuff Fehnhoff.  
Standing above Thompson who was still leaning back on the floor, Isabelle held out a hand. Accepting it Thompson rose to his feet.  
“Nice save Bennet.” He said smiling.  
“Isabelle. My friends call me Isabelle.”  
“Alright, Isabelle…”  
Thompson began, enjoying how her name sounded rolling off his tongue, and noting the way her eyes danced with something almost magical when she smiled at him. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say, probably something about how thankful he was she was there or, that she looked beautiful saving his sorry behind. But naturally Sousa in the way only friends can, decided that was the perfect moment to interrupt.

“If you’re not too busy I could use a hand over here.”  
Sousa’s voice snapped the pair out of their trance, dropping each other’s gaze they looked over to see Sousa standing over Fehnhoff.  
“Right, coming.” Thompson called.  
Suddenly realising how close she was to Thompson, Isabelle took a step back. Almost awkwardly, gesturing towards the stairs.  
“I’m going to go check on Peggy.”  
As the pair began to walk apart, Thompson looked at his hand that suddenly felt cold without Isabelle’s in it. His eyes grew wide as he saw faint smears of red across his fingers. He knew that he wasn’t injured, so it must have come from the brunette who was walking away. Some hitherto unknown panic came over him. Isabelle was hurt. Without hesitation he rushed to her and took her hand in his.  
“Wait, are you hurt. The blood.”  
Thompson’s eyes scanned Isabelle for any obvious signs of injury, but he could find none which abated his worry a little bit.  
“I’m fine.” Isabelle said, wiping her hands on her trousers leaving blood patches that would be a pain to get out. Oops.  
“Are you sure? Because if you are hu-” Thompson persisted.  
Growing impatient, Sousa looked up to see Thompson looking at Isabelle in a way he’d never seen the blond look at anyone. Now Sousa was a clever individual but even a blind man could see it. Except perhaps Thompson himself. Isabelle had got under his skin. Though as much fun as watching the irritating agent trip over himself for a girl was, they still had Fehnhoff to deal with. Luckily, he was still quite incapacitated thanks to Isabelle but he’d be coming round soon.  
“Anytime today, Thompson.” He called and almost chuckled when the blond turned towards him with a faint tint of pink in his cheeks.

Reaching the bottom of the staircase Isabelle spared a glance back at the two SSR agents. A feeling was brewing in her stomach. It felt like the sun on your skin after days of rain, of boarding the last train while someone stands on the platform forlorn as you leave. Of ending and beginning all at once.  
Halfway up the stairs Isabelle found Peggy. Hair still immaculate despite the obvious fight she had participated in with Dottie Underwood. Taking in the look on Peggy’s face, Isabelle noted the tear tracks and the look of relief.  
Quirking an eyebrow Isabelle broached the question.  
“Well?”  
“Howard turned the plane around. He’s okay.” Peggy practically sighed, the first traces of a smile forming.  
Even though she had known it would be okay, Isabelle broke into a wide grin and seeing the look in Peggy’s eyes she pulled the agent into a tight embrace. Feeling Peggy’s arms circling her, she allowed herself to relax. For the first time since they’d met both Peggy and Isabelle let down their guard and relished in the friendship of the other. As Peggy pulled away Isabelle reached up and wiped the fresh tears of the other Brit’s face, earning a smile in response.

“We’ve got Fehnhoff, the boys are sorting him out as we speak. Dottie…” Isabelle hesitated, unsure how to tell Peggy that she’d let the Russian walk away.  
Not noting the hesitancy in Isabelle’s voice, Peggy nodded. “I figured it’d take more than falling out a window to stop her. I felt the ground shake, was that you?”  
The impressed look on Peggy’s face flooded Isabelle with something akin to pride.  
“Fehnhoff was trying to talk Sousa into shooting Thompson. What’s a girl to do, leave a damsel in distress?”  
Sending Peggy a cheeky grin, both women began laughing as they headed down the stairs.  
“A true knight in shining armour. What would we do without you?” Peggy laughed, but feeling a heaviness on her at the last part of the sentence.  
Since Isabelle had arrived in 1946 and become part of Peggy’s life, she had been nothing bt a friend.  
Of course, Peggy wasn’t a fool there was still lots she didn’t know about the superhero but every day they spent together Peggy knew it’d be that bit harder to let her go. After all she didn’t have many female friends, especially not ones she didn’t have to worry about putting in danger due to her job.  
Isabelle was probably one of the best friends she’d ever had, how was she going to find the strength to say goodbye?  
“Oh, you’d be fine. Sousa had blocked his ears, couldn’t hear a word the doc was saying.” Isabelle responded as they walked towards the tarmac to greet the two planes coming in to land. 

Outside the hangar in the fresh night air, Sousa and Thompson loaded Fehnhoff into the back of the SSR car. Both relieved that the ordeal was over and that Peggy had managed to get through to Stark before he deployed the gas. It felt like the fog was finally lifting. Closing the door Thompson leant back against the car bonnet and watched Stark and Mr Jarvis join the two Brits.  
The night was almost peaceful in the quiet but Thompson knew he needed to get something off his chest.  
“You did good Sousa.” He said turning to face the dark-haired man beside him.  
Thompson knew that Sousa didn’t always get the praise he deserved for the work he did; he felt he needed to know it was noticed and appreciated.  
Smiling Sousa looked at the blond slightly surprised. “You too Jack. I suppose we owe it all to those two though don’t we.”  
Both men turned to look at Peggy and Isabelle once more who were laughing at something Stark had said.  
“Probably. Hey, how do you think Isabelle got her powers? Super soldier serum?” Thompson suddenly said.  
In the shock of learning that Isabelle was from the future nobody had asked her about her powers but now they’d seen them in action it was an interesting mystery.  
Sousa weighed up what Thompson was saying. “Like Rogers? I don’t know. But they’re pretty neat aren’t they?”  
“Yeah. She’s incredible.” He almost sighed, eyes trained on Isabelle’s laughing figure.  
Sousa shoots a look at Thompson, who was so lost in his own thoughts he went completely unaware.  
“I’ll be sad to see her go.” Sousa announces after a moment. It was an honest truth, he enjoyed the Brit’s company and spirit. If she had stuck around he could see the pair of them becoming good friends, but Stark would get her home. After all, as annoying as Howard Stark was it couldn’t be denied that the man’s a genius.  
Breaking out of his thoughts, Thompson looked at Sousa as if he’d lost his mind. “Hmm?”  
“When Stark figures out how to send her home.”  
“I hadn’t thought about it.”  
That was a lie. All day it had been playing in the back of his mind. Ever since she’d handed him her I.D in the conference room, he’d been picturing her vanishing into the sunset.  
It was evident to Thompson that Isabelle had never met any of the weird little group they had formed before. Not Peggy. Not Howard Stark or his butler. Not Sousa. And not him. Thompson didn’t want to dwell on that thought, because if she had never met them, then maybe once she’d left, he’d never see her again. All he would have would be memories of a vivacious superpowered woman who had made his heart skip a beat and his stomach do somersaults. There was also the possibility that if by some miracle he did see her again after she returned home then he’d be a wrinkly old nonagrian who had lived out his life and she’d still be the beautiful, energetic 26-year-old she was now. So, he had evicted the thoughts from his mind figuring it was best not to dwell on what he couldn’t control.  
As if reading Thompson’s mind, Sousa spoke up. “Well, if you want to tell her something, don’t wait.”  
Shaking away the image of him declaring all the thoughts he had running through his mind over some candle-lit dinner Thompson laughed at Sousa. Sending a quick glance at Isabelle once more he climbed into the car with Sousa promptly following suit.

But though he wouldn’t admit it out loud Sousa was right. Thompson had lots of things he wanted to say. Apologies and thank you’s and compliments and honest truths. If he recalled correctly, he had some writing paper back at the office. He’d write a letter to Isabelle, that way she didn’t have to read it if she didn’t want to and if he got cold feet, he didn’t necessarily have to have it delivered until the 21st century.  
He briefly wondered if people still wrote letters in 2015 before starting up the engine and driving away from Starks air hangar.


	18. This Is Falling In Love In The Cruelest Way, This Is Falling For You When You Are Worlds Away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter occurs at the end of Season 1 Episode 8 - Valediction

The rest of the evening passed in a blur after the events at the hangar. Isabelle scarcely remembered the conversations she had partaken in. She had a vague recollection of being offered a spare room at one of Howard Stark’s residences. She supposed she had accepted given the silk sheets brushing against her aching limbs. Despite feeling well rested - Isabelle couldn’t remember the last good night sleep she had had before the previous night – she did not want to get out of bed. In her opinion the sun had risen far too early, and the way it was shining through a gap in the curtains onto her face felt like a personal attack.

A faint whistling was sounding outside Isabelle’s door and with an unrepressed groan she grabbed her pillow and put it over her face as the door opened with a creak.  
“Ooh I must see that that is oiled. Good morning Miss Bennet, or should I say good afternoon.”  
Jarvis’s cheerful voice filled the room as he set down a tea tray on her nightstand before flinging open the curtains like a character in a film, letting the sun fill up the room.  
Isabelle did not appreciate the violation of the sun, and burrowed further under the covers. Jarvis only chuckled in response.  
“It is just past noon, Miss Bennet. I have left out the morning newspaper for you to read and my wife, Anna, has found you some clothes to choose an outfit from. They are in the bathroom across the hall when you are ready.”

Jarvis began prattling out notices for the day as Isabelle sat up, swinging her legs out from under the duvet. Picking up the cup of tea from the nightstand, Isabelle’s stomach let out an almighty growl. It had been a long time since dinner late last night and she was hungry. Taking the first sip of her tea, Isabelle all but moaned, it hit the spot. Only then did she glance up at Jarvis who was awkwardly facing the wall a pink tinge colouring his cheeks. Suddenly Isabelle remembered she’d gone to sleep in her underwear. Hastily she dove back under the covers to spare Jarvis any further embarrassment.  
Apologising profusely, Isabelle encouraged Jarvis to continue with the day’s announcements.  
With his cheeks still a trace pink, Jarvis faced Isabelle once more averting his gaze away from Isabelle who was holding the duvet tight around her.

“Mr Stark left a message. He has been working all morning on a way to get you home and has a few ideas. He requests that you visit his laboratory this evening at 7.30. He recommends you take all your belongings with you as he is quite optimistic on his research.”  
A light ignited inside Isabelle, and a Cheshire cat smile worked its way onto her face.  
“That’s amazing. I knew if anyone could help me it would be Stark. Jarvis that’s wonderful news. I’ll head to the SSR as soon as I’m dressed to collect my belongings and say my goodbyes. I’m going home this is the best news ever!” Isabelle practically squealed.  
Forgetting her inhibitions, she leapt out of bed with the duvet wrapped around her like a dramatic cape, pecking Jarvis on the cheek as she dashed across the hall to the bathroom.

An hour and a half later Isabelle sat in the car as Jarvis drove her to the SSR. A thousand words were tickling her tongue but an unnerving feeling, something akin to fear was growing in the pit of her stomach. She’d been so positive that Stark would return her home but now it didn’t seem feasible. Would he really be able to invent time travel, for her, a complete stranger? 

Walking in to the SSR offices a wave of melancholy washed over Isabelle. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye. She didn’t think she could. In a most unexpected fashion, the people she had met had become almost her friends. They had accepted her and given her opportunities that they didn’t have to. She had laughed and smiled and argued and lived during what could have easily become the worst experience of her life. But due to them it wasn’t. So, she wouldn’t say goodbye.  
There was a hubbub in the squad room as she entered. Agents standing at each other’s desks talking to each other, working on new cases and old ones but all generally being in a good mood. The high from the previous evening hadn’t lost its shine yet.  
Across the room, temporary wooden planks had been erected where the window had been blown out by Chief Dooley and all the smashed glass had been swept away. Pausing Isabelle took it all in. A 1940’s law enforcement office, the people, the smells, the sounds. 

Sitting at his desk writing up his case report Sousa reflected on everything that had transpired. His mind was running and his heart felt beaten. Resisting the urge to look over his shoulder at Peggy he tried to concentrate but it wasn’t a successful attempt. Deciding that a fresh brew would be helpful, he rose and began to make his way over to the teapot when he noticed Isabelle staring around the office, as if memorising it.

It would have been impossible to miss her, standing there hair almost red in the sunlight, drinking in the office. Several of the agents in the office had noticed her as she walked in and a few began whispering to one another. Office gossip was not just an activity women enjoyed and a rumour had begun that Thompson was sweet on this new women. Many of his actions over the past few days had only added fuel to that particular fire. 

Sousa, noting the looks Isabelle was receiving decided that it was probably best to snap her out of her daze, and so diverted his course from getting a refill to greeting her.  
“Isabelle! I didn’t expect to see you here.”  
Plastering a cheeky smile onto her face, Isabelle supressed the nauseating feeling that was expanding inside of her.  
“Well, I couldn’t keep away, Daniel. All I could think about was you and the glorious dusty smell of this office.”  
Chuckling at her sarcasm, Sousa raised his eyebrows prompting her to tell the real reason. Peggy who had been working at her desk, had heard Sousa call out, wandered over to Isabelle, just as curious as to her presence as Sousa.  
“What are you doing here?”  
“I came to grab my belongings, and see everyone.”  
Receiving quizzical looks Isabelle continued.  
“I’m seeing Stark this evening, hopefully this time tomorrow I’ll be home. I just wanted to see you all before I left. Where’s Thompson?”

Looking about the office she couldn’t spot the tall blond, which seemed strange given everything she knew he was a workaholic and after the Stark case had now been wrapped up, she was sure he’d be here diving headfirst into some new case.  
“Senator Walt Cooper wanted to personally thank him for all Peggy’s hard work.” Sousa informed her, not even trying to repress his disgust.  
“Ahh, I see.”  
“They’re still in Jack’s office.” Peggy said, completely non-plussed by the Senator ignoring her.  
This time it was Isabelle who wore the quizzical expression.  
“He’s been appointed Chief of the New York SSR.” Peggy clarified.  
Smiling softly, Isabelle couldn’t help but feel happy for him, though the sour expression on Sousa’s face suggested he wasn’t thrilled. Possibly worried it would only inflate the other man’s ego.  
“Good for him. So, what’s the next big adventure that you have planned?”

Taking his leave, Sousa went and grabbed his tea before returning to his desk. Peggy, in turn pulled a chair out by her own and invited Isabelle to sit by her.  
After grabbing her duffel from where it had been left in the briefing room, Isabelle took up the offer and the two girls began talking while Peggy finished up her reports.

The day seemed to fly by and in what felt like no time at all Peggy’s shift was over and she was packing up her belongings to leave for the day.  
Conversation had flown freely like a river between the two all day and now that goodbyes were nearing Isabelle couldn’t hold back any longer. She had seen the stolen glances between Peggy and Sousa ever since arriving back in New York but she could still tell that the dark-haired Brit hadn’t found closure. Maybe that was what Isabelle could give her.  
“Peggy, I have one more thing I wanted to show you, before I go.”  
“Okay? What is it?”  
Peggy couldn’t hide the curiosity in her voice. She knew that Isabelle was guarded about the future, holding it close to her heart the same way a mother holds close her newborn babe. But that afternoon, they had spoken so freely it had been easy to forget that they were from different time periods.  
Peggy didn’t want to let Isabelle go, almost selfishly she wanted to ask her to stay; it had been so long since she’d had a good female friend who she could truly be herself around, like the one she had found in Isabelle.  
“It’s a photograph of me and two of my friends.”

Isabelle’s hands were shaking as she shuffled through the photos for a very specific picture. When she found it, she handed it to Peggy whose eyes were swimming with unrepressed anticipation.  
Taking the photo in hand, Peggy studied it. Three faces were laughing out from the image, with a man sitting in an armchair and two others lounging on the arms. Tinsel was draped over cheesy Christmas jumpers and paper crowns sat atop their heads. Peggy recognised Isabelle immediately but was unfamiliar with the man sitting in the armchair. Initially Peggy couldn’t understand why Isabelle had wanted her to see it until she looked at the third figure. Sitting side saddle on the armchair, blond hair slightly tousled beneath the paper crown and a wide genuine smile lighting up his features.  
She felt her breath catch and her eyes widen.  
“He’d be proud of what you did. You’ve always been his best girl.” Isabelle’s voice sounded a million miles away.  
“Steve?”

Looking up from the photograph, Peggy could hardly believe it was real but Isabelle was smiling at her and she knew it was true.  
“He was found about four years ago. The serum helped him survive, I guess. He’s one of the most phenomenal people I’ve ever met. Did you ever see him draw?”  
Isabelle sounded so casual despite delivering one of the biggest pieces of news in Peggy’s entire life. Steve was okay, or he would be. It took a moment for the question to register.  
“Yes, a few times.”  
Suddenly she was back in Europe and Steve was sitting in the rain, with his sketchbook and pencil after a miserable show for the 107th. She wouldn’t admit it but the question was not what she had expected, maybe something about him being Captain America the war hero, not Steve Rogers the kid from Brooklyn who enjoyed art.  
“He still has this picture of a circus monkey that he drew during the war, says it reminds him of a valuable lesson he learnt… from you.”

“I’m really happy I met you Peggy Carter”  
The two girls rose to their feet, and Peggy noticed how her cheeks were beginning to dampen and the way Isabelle’s eyes were brighter than normal, shining with tears that had yet to spill.  
“Likewise, Isabelle Bennet. Look after yourself.”  
Peggy reached out and pulled the other Brit into a tight embrace, full of things she would never get to say.

Isabelle was happy with the way her conversation with Peggy had gone. Part of her had been craving to tell her since they met about Steve and that he was alive and would be okay. She felt lighter now. Glancing back over her shoulder at Peggy who was packing up her belongings to leave the office for the day, Isabelle smiled. They both were getting closure.  
Taking a deep breath, she reached up and knocked on the door in front of her. Hearing a voice from within she pushed it open. Walking in to say goodbye to the one person she hadn’t quite figured out.

The Chief’s office was still full of Dooley’s belongings. His toothbrush was sitting in a mug besides framed photographs of his children. His presence still lingering like smoke after a fire.  
Jack Thompson hadn’t begun to packing the belongings up and moving a few of his own personal effects into the office. He supposed he’d get around to it, Mrs Dooley would want the photographs, it would bring some closure since she’d never be able to bury her husband’s body. 

Staring out the window, reflecting on the conversation he had just had with the Senator, Thompson knew things would never be the same. This case had changed him for better or worse. And now he was the Chief of the New York SSR, part of him at dreamt that he’d get the position one day, but not until Dooley had retired and Thompson had a few grey hairs of his own. He wanted this but not this way. Except you can’t change the hand your dealt you just have to suck it up and play with it, see where the unlit avenues and backroads will take you.

A rap on his door pulled him away from the window.  
“Come in.”  
As the door was pushed open Isabelle stepped inside, her duffel slung over her shoulder. Thompson couldn’t help but notice how happy she looked; hope was glimmering like opals in her eyes.  
“Hi, do you mind?”  
Motioning to the chair opposite his desk, Thompson took a seat and Isabelle dropped into the chair facing him.

“I thought I saw you. What’re you doing here?”  
“Collecting my things. Saying my goodbyes.” Isabelle kept her voice placid, as if she was simply listing off the groceries.  
“Goodbyes?”  
“Yeah. I’m seeing Howard Stark later. If all goes well, he might be able to help get me home tonight.”  
Isabelle looked like a kid on Christmas but Thompson felt as if the world had just fallen away under his feet.  
Keeping his voice steady he tried to sound happy for her.  
“That’s … good.”  
“It is. I really want to see everyone again.”  
“Did you have someone?” Thompson heard himself asking, the words tumbling from his lips before he could rein them in.  
Isabelle looked up at him, slightly dazed. Immediately he felt guilty but he didn’t understand why.  
“Hmm?”  
Figuring there was no way back now, Thompson asked what he truly meant. Would he have had a chance at wooing the incredible woman before him.  
“Do you have someone special, a boyfriend, back home? Sorry, that’s too personal…”  
“No, it’s fine.”  
But even as she spoke Thompson could see her hands fiddling with her sleeve. He had brought up something uncomfortable, something she didn’t want to talk about. He felt like a first-rate ass.  
“There hadn’t been anything serious for a while. I lost someone who was my everything. I thought they were going to be the one, that we’d grow old together. But he erm… he died. Hard to move on from that you know?”  
Though Isabelle was smiling her eyes had lost their sparkle. Slowly she seemed to be falling down to somewhere dark and Thompson regrated that he had pushed her there.  
“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.” His words were full of guilt and honesty.  
Sniffing slightly, Isabelle took a deep breath.  
“No, it’s okay. He wouldn’t want me to be sad forever. I think that’s been the best part about this trip into the past. I’ve found closure. Or started to.”  
When she looked back up, she was smiling again and Thompson realised that Isabelle was just as adept at wearing a mask as he was. That so many times when he had looked at her, flashing that movie star smile that made his knees go weak, it hadn’t been real.  
“But, anyway that’s enough sad talk. I hear I owe you a congratulations. Chief Thompson. Has a nice ring to it.”  
“Thank you. To be honest, I don’t feel like I deserve the title. But it feels good. A real purpose. I’m doing things that matter.” 

Sitting with Isabelle he couldn’t help but spill his guts, he told her his insecurities about taking the position and the lessons he wished Dooley would have had the chance to teach him. He nearly brought up the Navy Cross story a few times but never did.  
As they spoke, he felt lighter, like Isabelle was stripping his worries away and making him a better person. He’d noticed that since their first meeting. How she pushed him, made him step outside his comfort zone. How he was a better person when standing in her presence. She was like the morning sun come to clear away the cobwebs he’d been collecting.  
Isabelle told him a little of the world she was hopefully returning to. Of her brothers and her childhood in England, of her friends and the places she wanted to travel to. He shared tales of his own childhood, told her about his friends from university. When he told her about his student days she laughed and confessed she had missed out because of her powers. He learnt that growing up all she wanted to do was become a bio-chemist like her father.  
Thompson enjoyed hearing her stories and having someone who enjoyed listening to his.  
With Isabelle it all felt so simple. He guessed that was part of her charm, making everyone feel at ease, he noticed how Carter and Sousa were both more relaxed around her too. He truly was sad to see her go. More than he even understood himself.

Glancing at her watch, Isabelle felt a melancholy feeling overcome her. She needed to leave if she were to arrive at Stark’s lab on time. So now, she needed to say her last goodbye.

The pair shook hands across the table as they rose to their feet. It felt wrong, like they’d just finished a business meeting not that they were two friends about to say goodbye, possibly forever.  
As they let go, Thompson pulled an envelope out of the top drawer of the desk.  
‘Isabelle Bennet’ was written across the front in slightly smudged ink. Holding it out to Isabelle Thompson realised his heart was beating faster than usual.  
Sousa had been right he supposed. Not that he’d ever tell him that.  
When he had got home from locking up Doctor Fehnhoff, Thompson had drunk a glass of whiskey and started writing. Once he began, he found he couldn’t stop. The words were flowing out of him, everything he wanted to say fell like snow onto the paper. He’d then hastily folded the letter and put it in an envelope in his briefcase, before the Dutch courage left him and he got scared and threw it away.  
“This is for you. To read when you get home. Just says how thankful I am for your assistance in this case, and for saving my life.”  
Smiling, what Thompson noted was a genuine beautiful smile, Isabelle accepted the envelope, sliding her hands over it before carefully placing it in her bag, besides the envelope of photographs.  
“Thank you.”  
Suddenly all words seemed to evaporate, neither knowing what else there was to say. 

Then Jack Thompson watched Isabelle Bennet walk towards the door and out of his life.

She didn’t know what it was but as her hand rested on the door handle Isabelle turned to look back at the blond agent who was walking over to the window.  
Her voice sounded casual, like she was informing him the coffee was nearly out.  
“There was a photograph of us and Peggy in the paper this morning. I guess a photographer hung around after the shooting at the press conference yesterday. It’s a nice picture; will mean you can’t forget me.”  
“That was never even a possibility.” Thompson chuckled.  
Laughing softly, Isabelle waved and walked out of the SSR, bag over her shoulder and hair swaying as she walked. 

She felt happy in a sense. She had said goodbye, the chapter was closed. Nothing was left unsaid on her part. She had no regrets. That was a nice feeling to have. Yet, a sadness was lingering in her heart, the reason for which she couldn’t put her finger on.  
She wasn’t sure why she’d mentioned the photo to Thompson, but she had to admit to herself that it was a nice one. The photographer had captured her and the two agents leaving the hotel, discussing where Stark could have gone. She’d noticed the photo as she skimmed the newspaper over breakfast and had promptly cut it out and put it in her pocket. It was a nice little memento of the trip, a way to always remember the adventure and the people she’d met.

Jack Thompson stood at the window in his office, inhaling the lingering scent of fresh linen, warm vanilla and something unique to the brunette he could see hailing a cab on the street below. He didn’t know why he watched her disappear into the distance, quite literally into the sunset, but until the cab was out of sight he stayed by the window.

Walking back to his desk he recalled what she’d said as she left. Almost as an afterthought, something about a photograph in the paper. Popping out into the squad room which was almost empty except for the night crew he picked up a copy of the days paper, flicking through until he found the picture she’d mentioned. Looking at it he smiled. It was a very nice photo. Peggy on his left and Isabelle on his right descending the hotel steps.

As the taxi drove Isabelle to Stark’s lab, she never knew that Thompson called the photographer and bought a copy for himself.  
Jack Thompson wasn’t a sentimental chap; he didn’t bathe in nostalgia – or at least didn’t try to. But when the photo arrived a week later, he found himself smiling sadly. He folded the photo so that it was just him and Isabelle, not that it offended Peggy when she’d seen it, and put it in a frame on his desk. His cheeks had gone pink when Sousa had commented on it. Extra reports to file had shut the dark-haired agent up before he could tease the Chief any more though.

In the months to follow Thompson would look at that photo and be filled with courage and a pang of longing in his heart for a woman who would literally move mountains for the ones she loved.  
The one who got away.


	19. I Can Go Anywhere I Want Just Not Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is, the end of Season 1.  
> Thank you to everyone who has been reading this story so far. I've really enjoyed writing it and I have some plans of where I'm going to take these characters next and how relationships will develop which I'm looking forward to exploring. So thank you for sticking with it.  
> As always feedback is greatly appreciated.  
> -AgentArcherDragon xxx

As the taxi pulled up to Stark’s lab, Isabelle felt the nerves that had been gnawing away at her stomach suddenly abate. Paying the driver, she stared up at the building in front of her. She was going to walk through the doors in 1946 and exit them in 2015. She was sure of it.

Howard Stark opened the door moments after she knocked and led her through to a breath-taking atrium. The ceiling was at least 30 foot high and the even the wooden skirting boards were intricately carved. As Stark led Isabelle down to his main laboratory he was sipping a cup of coffee like it was the elixir of life. 

The lab was very advanced for it’s time, and Isabelle couldn’t help but admire how organised it was. Several workbenches had blueprints stretched out across them all bearing the Stark Industries logo, annotated to within an inch of their lives. Isabelle noted that most of them had the words ‘FAILED’ and ‘IMPROBABLE’ written across them, which caused a sinking feeling in her gut, but the equations scrawled onto the blackboards looked far more promising.

“Nice lab.” Isabelle remarked, dropping her bag onto a stool.  
“You impressed by my gadgets.”  
“I said it’s nice. Not that I’m impressed.” She joked, she wasn’t about to confess that this was more advanced than the lab at her school sixty years in the future.  
“Ouch that hurts.” Stark dramatically clutched at his chest, laughing.  
“So, Isabelle, it’s alright that I call you Isabelle? What can I do for you? Or did you come all this way to flirt?”  
“Please, you’re not my type.”  
Rolling her eyes Isabelle walked past him to read the equations on the blackboard.  
“What are you talking about? I’m everyone’s type.”  
“Arrogant much? I need your help.”  
“With the time travel?”  
“Yes. Jarvis said you thought you had something. I’m open to anything I just want to go home.”  
“I’ve been thinking about it and I have some theories, nothing tangible. Several of my test runs failed I must confess but I need a few more details to see if I missed anything.”  
Motioning to a set of stools by a clear workbench, Stark grabbed a notebook and pen.  
“Such as?” Isabelle questioned, taking a seat.  
“What’s the last thing you remember? Try without spoilers but the more detail the better.”

Stark understood the importance of not divulging important – essentially classified – information. It was dangerous to know too much. He saw Isabelle nodding and as she began talking, he started jotting down notes. He would burn them later.

“I was in Sokovia and the city was falling-”  
“The city? Sorry, go on.”  
He hadn’t expected to be surprised this early on but she’d said ‘falling’ and he suddenly had a million questions. Such as how can a city fall, how was it flying, or was it not flying was it something else?  
A smile fluttered onto Isabelle’s face as she watched him trip over himself with curiosity. It was so achingly familiar.  
“To- my friend,” Isabelle caught herself, not the best idea to tell him about his son. “had a plan to stop the fall and needed my help to pull it off. We both knew there was a risk we’d die. It was a risk we were willing to take.  
I was in the centre, at the Church where there was a reactor core, and I used my powers, stronger than I’ve ever done before and blew the city apart as he supercharged the reactor that was beside me from below the city. I felt the ground around me crack like a giant egg.  
Then I was tumbling. Bits of debris were knocking me here and there, cutting my bare skin leaving me bruised. I could see glimpses through the rubble as I fell. I knew I was getting close to the sea and if I didn’t do something, I’d break every bone in my body from the impact when I hit the water, so I sent out a shockwave and the next thing I know I landed on grass in Sokovia in 1946. So, any ideas?”

After a pause Stark spoke.  
“That’s quite the story. You blew apart a city?”  
“I nearly blew apart a planet once.” Isabelle said without meaning to.  
His eyes went wide.  
“Seriously?”  
“Not this one, don’t worry.”  
Isabelle clarified, her mind replaying that fateful day when she’d been fighting the Kree. They named her ‘Destroyer of Worlds’ after that. It was a moniker she hated but could never shake. Some said it with reverence, most with fear. That was the one thing Isabelle never wanted to be: feared. Her parents had always taught her that to be admired and respected was the best way to govern your life as opposed to feared and secretly loathed. That day, that blood-soaked battle in space had undone everything she’d ever worked for in one fell swoop. It was one of the worst days of her life, second only to the day she’d…  
She pushed the thought away, instead focusing solely on Howard Stark who looked like he’d just won the lottery.  
“You’ve been to another planet? Incredible. Where? When? How?”  
“The issue at hand.” 

Snapping out of his excited trance, Stark stood, organising his notes and equations onto the workbench in front of Isabelle.  
“Right. I have a theory.”  
“Let’s hear it.”  
Pulling over the lone blank blackboard Stark started drawing diagrams, gesticulating as he talked.  
“Everything vibrates, right.”  
“Yeah. Everything has its own frequency. If I concentrate, I can tap in to each one. It helps centre me sometimes.”  
“Exactly. Now, I believe you tapped into the frequency the planet spins around the sun at. Created a rip of sorts. Where there any other powers in play? Momentous energy surges that may have made it bigger?”  
Stark was smart enough to understand that there had been other people with powers. Isabelle had practically said so herself.  
As he spoke, Isabelle’s eyes lit up in sudden realisation.

“Oh my – Wanda.”

Jumping to her feet, Isabelle took a chalk and began drawing on the blackboard. Diagrams of the battlefield and notes she could just about recall from Shield and Avenger files regarding Loki’s sceptre and the Maximoff twins’ abilities. That’s where the answer was. She just knew it.  
“Who?”  
“She’s this kid. Erm, she has powers; energy manipulation, telekinesis, that sort of thing.” Isabelle said glancing at him over her shoulder as she finished off her annotations.  


Stark tried to keep his mind steady. If he’d thought the Super Soldier Serum was an incredible feat, then the things Isabelle had in her life, the people she knew, what she could do; well, that was on a whole other level.  
“Completely normal. That’s a start. Was she near you when you fell?”  
“No, she was on the helicarrier with the others.”  
Isabelle paused drumming the chalk against the back of her her left hand as she thought.  
“But she had been guarding the Church until Pietro. Her twin, he died during the battle. I heard her scream over the comms.”  
“Comms?”  
“There was a ripple of energy when she screamed.”  
“Grief, it’s a powerful emotion. And this kid, she’s strong, yes?”  
Stark and Isabelle were running down the same track both inching closer to the finishing line together.  
“Incredibly. But her powers are new she doesn’t have full control, and her twin, he was all she had. They were orphans, had only joined the team a few hours prior.”  
It all made sense now. Stark had pretty much solved the time travel mystery, but he didn’t think Isabelle was going to like the answer he had.  
“I think I know how you got here.”  
“And how I can get home?”  
“Sit.” 

Pulling out the stool again, Stark’s voice was calm and kind. It frightened Isabelle terribly. She didn’t want him t be nice, she wanted him to be arrogant and clever and all the things she could work with. But he was being kind, that never brought good news. She suddenly felt like she was sitting in a doctor’s surgery and being given a terminal diagnosis.  
“Stark.” Isabelle’s voice was cold.

Stark took Isabelle’s hand in his, and realised she was trembling. Her composure was incredible he hadn’t noticed, but she was scared. It made the next part so much harder.  
“Please sit.”  
Guiding her to a seat he pulled his closer, until they were face to face, knees knocking against each other.  
Keeping her hands in his, he looked her dead in the face and tore off the plaster. He was vaguely aware of a rattling sound in his lab and a bead of sweat dripping down the nape of his neck, it’d suddenly got a lot warmer.

“Listen. When the kid lost control momentarily due to grief it caused a fissure in reality, which you widened when you started- what did you call it, quaking? And then when you caused the explosion the massive surge of combined power, traces from her and what was emanating from you and the charged-up core, ripped it apart and you slipped through. To a different frequency and a different time.”  
“Are you saying this is a parallel world?”  
“No. Maybe. Not that I can say for sure. But you only travelled because of the right ingredients being present without even one of them maybe it would have been different. Most likely you would have been killed during the explosion.”  
“Small miracles. But to return, travel the other way I’d need the same elements. Is that what you’re saying?”  
Isabelle was an intelligent woman she was figuring it out on her own. Stark couldn’t do anything but watch as her world crumbled into a thousand tiny irreparable pieces.  
“Yes. The exact same variables.”  
“Variables that won’t exist for another seventy years.”  
Isabelle felt her voice quiver but she did not cry.  
“Isabelle, I’m sorry. I can look into things. If you know how she got her powers I could study the source, do research, we could build an alternative.” Stark said but she was shaking her head at him and she’d dropped his hands.  
“That’s impossible. The source of her power isn’t from earth. I don’t know where it’s from or where it’ll be in this time period, only that it won’t be on this planet until the 21st Century. I’m never going home, am I?”  
“To be blunt, no. Look if there’s anything I can do…”  
“No. It’s okay. I think a part of me always knew. I just need time to grieve. I’ll figure things out. But I suppose I can’t change things, can I? Undo things that I know will occur?”  
Her voice sounded so young and down trod.  
“No.”  
“That sucks.”  
“I bet it does.” He chuckled  
Isabelle blew a hair off her face. Stark didn’t know what to do, he wanted to help her like she’d helped him. She looked so defeated. 

Deciding to change the subject, Stark spoke.  
“Now I’ve got a phenomenal bottle of scotch upstairs that’s been begging for a momentous occasion to be drunk. What do you say?”  
“Drown my sorrows in alcohol _probably_ more expensive than the rent for my old flat?”  
“No probably about it honey.”  
Isabelle couldn’t stop herself rolling her eyes at the term of endearment.  
“One condition… I pour.”  
“Done.”

Howard Stark rose to his feet and glanced around his lab, giving Isabelle a moment. It felt stuffy in the lab, and he spotted the reason for the rattling noise. The entire room was shaking.  
Behind him Isabelle had closed her eyes, saying a silent goodbye to the life she’d always known and taken for granted.  
Stark heard her take in a deep breath and as she slowly exhaled, he noticed how everything steadied, and stopped shaking.  
Turning back to her he dramatically held out his hand, Prince Charming style. Laughing, Isabelle took it giving a curtsy as she stood, soliciting a chuckle from him.

Isabelle Bennet was heartbroken.  
All day she’d been saying goodbyes to people here in 1946, but she’d never get to say goodbye to her family and friends back home. It wasn’t fair. Part of her wanted to scream and cry and throw a toddler tantrum until someone came and made all the pain go away.  
Later that evening and for several nights to follow Isabelle would cry herself to sleep, mourning the loss of a life that was by no means perfect but had been her own. Mourning the people that she knew, people she may never see again.  
As she picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder, she followed Stark out of his lab. Pausing at the top of the stairs to glance back at all the hard work he had done trying to invent time travel. For her. Hearing his voice asking a million questions at a mile a minute, Isabelle felt her heart relax. Maybe she’d be okay.

After all every night has to end to birth a new day. Maybe this was her chance to be a new person. An opportunity to become the person she’d dreamt she’d be when she was a child. A chance to get everything she ever wanted. A job she loved, good friends, and an epic true love if she was lucky.

It would always hurt, Isabelle knew that. It’d be a phantom pain like when you lose a limb. But Isabelle Bennet was a superhero. She’d be alright.


	20. We Learn To Live With The Pain, Mosaic Broken Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back. The story now follows Season 2 of Agent Carter and I'm very excited about some of the things coming up... hopefully you will enjoy reading them as much as I have coming up with them and writing them.
> 
> ** Disclaimer**
> 
> Naturally I should remind the universe that I don't own any of these characters ONLY my OC Isabelle, and thus anything you recognise, be it dialogue from the TV show or characters from the Marvel Universe DO NOT belong to me.  
> In some of the later chapters I have drawn inspiration from One Tree Hill and Agents Of SHIELD but will issue another disclaimer when they occur, that those events/ similarities are not malicious and only done because I enjoy the shows and thought pieces of their storylines work really well with the direction of this story and the development of characters.
> 
> Thank you for sticking with the story and I hope you like it.  
> As always feedback is welcomed.
> 
> -AgentArcherDragon xxx

The sun on her face reminded her she was alive.  
It had been six months since Isabelle Bennet, former Avenger, had found herself stuck in the 1940’s and slowly she was adjusting to her new life. After several nights where her body had shaken and her heart had crumbled, nights where her pillow became soaked by tears, Isabelle had begun to let go. It had taken a while, but gradually she was learning to relish this new life she had been given.  
Early on Isabelle had made the decision not to tell the friends she’d made at the SSR that she couldn’t return to her time period. It was better that way; she could start afresh. And start afresh she had.

It had been a Tuesday morning in late May when Howard Stark had walked into the bedroom he’d given Isabelle in his mansion in New York and announced he was planning on moving out west. When Howard had walked in unannounced, Isabelle had been lying across her bed with her head in an Agatha Christie novel and had jumped out of her skin accidently setting it on fire. She never did finish that novel.  
Three weeks later she had landed in the Golden State and properly begun a new life. While in New York she’d been working as a cleaner at a local high school, very unglamorous but it brought in some money; she didn’t feel comfortable siphoning off Howard’s wealth no matter what he said. But, here in California she was starting something new.

Her Stark Industries badge still made her grin like a Cheshire cat. Since she was a child she had dreamt of following in her father’s footsteps and being a biochemist, while still at school she had studied both and was a high flying student. Life had had other plans for her though and that dream had been kicked to the curb. Until now.  
Howard knew she didn’t have the qualifications, but he did know she was smart and her knowledge of future technology and discoveries made her even more so in this era, and he had faith in her. That was what made it all the more special. Having someone believe in her.  
Her role in Stark Industries was based in biochemistry, but Howard had basically made her his number two. Allowing her to work alongside him in his lab on whatever project he was working on. Her position had raised a few eyebrows at first, and Isabelle had overheard several innuendo laced remarks about her employment, but she couldn’t care less. She loved her job. It felt like home, being in a lab with a Stark, working on anything and everything.

After six months of carefully saving up money Isabelle had finally bought her own place in California. It wasn’t anything fancy or luxurious but she had made it her home. The photos that she had always carried on her person had been framed and put on display around the house, she barely ever had visitors so Isabelle didn’t worry they’d raise awkward questions.  
Ana Jarvis, who Howard had introduced her to a few days after she’d learnt she was stuck, had come over and helped her decorate as well. Isabelle adored the red-head, and considered her a close friend.  
At first Howard had been quite affronted that Isabelle wanted to move out of his mansion and get her own place but slowly he had warmed to the idea, and much to Isabelle’s dismay had hung a portrait of himself in her kitchen. She thought it was gauche but refused to take it down. 

So here she was. Standing with her toes in the sand, November sun on her face, staring out across the Pacific Ocean. Life felt good.

Daniel Sousa had moved to Los Angeles to set up and run the West Coast of the SSR, and had gradually acclimatised to how different the place was to New York. He was still a stranger to the city and had taken to driving around familiarising himself with his new stomping ground. It was late November when he had decided to visit the beach after a day of organising the chaos of the new office when he’d seen her.  
Standing on the pier, he was still uncomfortable walking across the sand with his crutch, he had been looking across the golden sand and blue sea when he’d done a double take. From the corner of his eye, he’d seen a beautiful woman looking out to the water, sea breeze blowing her hair off her face, shoes held in her hand.  
She looked different, her hair was shorter and redder than it had been back in New York but he was sure it was her.  
Sousa wasn’t sure whether it’d been his eyes deceiving him at first. Isabelle Bennet had said goodbye and returned to 2015. Hadn’t she? Nobody had heard from her since she’d visited Stark and she’d been so confident, but then she turned to walk back up the beach and he’d seen her face.  
Isabelle Bennet was there on the beach below still in 1946!  
He raced off the pier, crutch clicking with every step but by the time he’d got to the boardwalk she was nowhere to be found. Sousa was disappointed he hadn’t gotten to speak to her but he was a patient man and from then on kept his eyes open looking for the super-powered Brit in the faceless masses.

It was three months later when Isabelle and Sousa bumped into each other by chance at the theatre. He’d been to see a performance of Othello with Violet, his new girlfriend when they’d met her in the auditorium.  
Isabelle was on a date. She’d been on several since starting her new life in California, but nobody was particularly special. The performance had been excellent, a small theatre troupe, full of enthusiasm. They had just left their seats after the curtains had closed when her date had paused to let another couple out of a row into the masses exiting the auditorium when her mouth had dropped.  
Isabelle was gaping like a fish. She knew that face and that distinctive crutch walk.  
“Sousa?”  
Hearing his name, Daniel Sousa turned, and there she was. Hair styled in victory rolls and a 1940’s style blue dress, looking as if she had always lived in this era, Isabelle Bennet was a sight for sore eyes.  
“Isabelle. Hey.”  
Sousa had begun to believe it was a hallucination that day on the pier. That he’d seen a person who had some passing resemblance and in his post-work exhaustion had projected Isabelle’s face onto them. But here she stood, real as the sun.  
The group of four exited the theatre together, talking animatedly about the performance. As they reached the main street, the group preparing to part ways, Isabelle impulsivley invited Sousa around for dinner. She wasn’t sure why, in truth she was a terrible cook, she had a vivid recollection of being fifteen and trying to cook dinner for her mum’s birthday and ending up giving the whole family food poisoning instead. However, the offer was out there now and Sousa willingly accepted.

Three days later, Isabelle was laying the table for two, when a knock sounded throughout the house. Checking her reflection in the hallway mirror Isabelle opened up the door to find Sousa standing in a bright tropical shirt with a bottle of wine in hand.  
Walking in to Isabelle’s house, Sousa couldn’t help but feel impressed. In the months since he’d last seen her, she’d truly built a life for herself. As she led him through, he eyed the framed photos hanging from the walls and sitting on counter tops. He spotted the one of her and her family that she’d shown him back in May sitting pride of place on the mantlepiece.  
The dinner was delicious, Isabelle had visited the Jarvis’ and they’d graciously taught her a simple recipe, that she’d practiced every day in preparation. After all it really wouldn’t be a good idea to poison an SSR agent, especially not one who had been your friend. Despite the fact Isabelle had eaten nothing but the meal in front of her for three consecutive dinners, it tasted good.

An awkward silence descended once pleasantries were exchanged, neither saying a word just eating their food before both began to speak at once. The natural ‘you first/no you’ ensued and finally they began a proper conversation.  
Isabelle learnt that Sousa was, Agent Daniel Sousa no more. He had been promoted and become Chief Daniel Sousa of the West Coast SSR. Isabelle felt like a fool for not realising it sooner, after all she knew he had headed the west coast branch of SHIELD for a brief period, so it made sense he was already out west to begin with.  
In turn, Sousa learnt that Howard had found no way to return Isabelle to her time period and that since June she had been working at Stark Industries. He felt happy for her, that she was making a life for herself so far away from home, though he couldn’t help but be mildly offended that she hadn’t let anyone know she was still here. Sousa couldn’t help but think it would be even worse for Peggy and Thompson since they were closer to Isabelle and she had become to mean a lot to them in the short time they’d known each other. Sousa knew Thompson had a framed photo of the pair of them on his desk. 

“Why didn’t you let anyone know you couldn’t go home?” Sousa asked, his voice slightly hurt.  
Isabelle paused, considering her answer.  
“I thought if nobody knew it would be easier.”  
“Easier?”  
“Moving on. If nobody knew I was still here, then nobody knew where I had come from. I could start afresh with no worries about trying to be who I once was. I could become someone completely new, become the person I pictured I would be as a child. I could leave my past in New York, and move on. It wasn’t personal.”  
Sousa nodded. He could see the pain Isabelle was in, the gut-wrenching ache she’d hidden masterfully back in New York. Understanding that the she needed time ti adjust to take the shattered glass of the life she’d always had off the floor and craft something new he promised he wouldn’t tell anyone she was still here. He’d allow her to do it all on her own terms.

Of course, Isabelle was curious as to how all her SSR friends were faring post-Stark case and Sousa was more than willing to oblige, telling her of cases they’d been working, mysteries they’d solved and how Dottie Underwood was still managing to evade their capture. Isabelle opted against telling Sousa that she’d allowed the Russian to get away, now probably wasn’t the time to mention that. 

As the evening drew to a close Sousa, thinking about how fantastic it would be to have someone like Isabelle working for him at the SSR, offered Isabelle a job as an agent. Shocked and flattered by the offer Isabelle thanked him but declined, she would always enjoy beating the streets and saving the world but her job at Stark Industries was incredible and she didn’t want to give it up. It was new and different to what she’d done before; being an agent would be too similar to what she’d lost.  
Though he accepted her reasons, Daniel Sousa wasn’t about to let a valuable asset slip through his fingers. So, the pair came to an agreement. Isabelle Bennet would not become an SSR agent but would undertake the role of Consultant. Should any peculiar case arise, or should Sousa want an external set of eyes to examine and analyse data and evidence, then he would call in Isabelle.

Several times Isabelle got calls asking her to pop round to the SSR offices located in, of all places, a fake talent agency, but each time she went Isabelle knew her day would be an interesting one. The consultant position became another part of her new life that she enjoyed.

Isabelle Bennet’s life hadn’t by any means been a normal one but wherever, whenever she was, she found a way to make it work and enjoy it; even though deep inside she still felt like something was missing. Something that she’d lost long before her foray with time travel.


	21. The Story Starts When It Was Hot And It Was Summer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The events of this chapter occur during Season 2 Episode 1 - The Lady In The Lake.

When you are up against the clock every move you make matters. Catching Dottie Underwood was a bit like playing in a sports match against a team in a different league, completely one-sided. Every move the SSR had made against her she had been three steps ahead. But even the best of us slip up sometimes.  
Promising intel had landed on Jack Thompson’s desk a few months ago and had levelled the playing field. So, while Dottie Underwood was off believing she was untouchable the SSR had been setting the traps and lying-in wait.

It’s an honest truth that you can’t run forever.

The chess board was set, the die had been cast and Chief Thompson of the New York SSR was confident that today would go down as a highlight of his career.  
An unmistakable clicking of heels against stone resounded through the packed atrium of the Bank, and from his peripheral vision he watched a brunette strut up to the counter.  
Show Time!

“Deposit or with drawl?”  
A click of a gun preceded Dottie Underwood’s cocky voice, “With Drawl.”

While the bank teller led Dottie down to the vaults (where Thompson had stationed Peggy, like a lioness ready to pounce) her companions set about causing chaos. Yelling orders with their weapons drawn they took the occupants of the bank hostage; wholly unaware they’d just walked in to the crocodile’s mouth and it was closing around them.  
Enjoying the show Thompson stayed reclined in his seat, hat drawn low over his head. His agents would not move until he gave the signal. He just had to wait for Dottie to waltz unknowingly into Peggy’s arms. Just a few more moments and she should be in place.  
A sharp click behind his head warned him that the tempo of the dance had changed and the irked voice very nearly made him smile.  
Slowly, he rose to his feet. Eyes of everyone in the bank boring into him, he subtly moved his hand in the pre-arranged signal. A flurry of weapons were drawn pointing at the robbers and with an added zest Thompson jumped onto the table.

“We’re the SSR! Lower your weapons.”

All around the room, Dottie’s companions lowered their guns, shifting under the scrutiny of the agents surrounding them. They were severely outmanned; it was obvious there was no fight.  
A sudden echoing of a ricocheting gunshot filled the room and Thompson spotted one of Dottie’s accomplices inching towards their gun. Jumping from the table, he swung his arm in a solid right hook. The collision force of his fist and the man’s jaw knocked the thief to the floor.  
Standing above the groaning man on the floor, Thompson flexed his fist, shaking the pain from his knuckles. That would definitely leave a bruise on the man’s jaw. Unholstering his weapon to deter the man from trying anything else, Thompson reached up with his other hand to adjust his hat. After all he had to look the part.

Twenty minutes later saw Thompson twirling a pin between his fingers, studying it and attempting to deduce its importance. This had been the only thing in safety deposit box 143, and yet it had been important enough for Dottie Underwood to rob a bank for it. He’d have Peggy question her, if anyone was able to get into the Russians twisted mind it was the female agent. 

A lot had changed in a year. As he watched Peggy escort Dottie in handcuffs to a waiting SSR car, Thompson reflected on how much.  
In the past fifteen months he had begun to acknowledge that Peggy Carter was one of the SSR’s finest, he trusted her to get the job done and with his darkest shame. He accepted that she was capable and had done a full one-eighty on his treatment of her.  
Thompson had been arrogant and misogynistic in the past there was no way he could deny it. That was the man he’d been expected to be, the attractive, intelligent war hero. Societal beliefs crowned him as a superior man. He had let other people fashion him into what they thought that was. But he didn’t want to be that person anymore.  
Then the Stark case had thrown him a curve ball and he’d been thrown a rope, experienced an awakening, an opportunity to change himself. For the first time he’d had his eyes opened to another type of person that he was capable of being. The type of person he was fighting every day to be. A better man.

In Los Angeles, the morning sun was creeping through a gap in the curtains that Isabelle was frantically trying to close. She silently cursed whoever had decided to install windows in this laboratory. She had pitched an idea to Howard weeks ago but for optimum results the tests needed to be performed in the dark and in the cool. A relentless heatwave was nullifying both of those variables.  
Isabelle was frustrated, to say the least. Normally she’d just swing by Howard’s personal lab but he was off trying to be the next big film producer so she had to make do with one of the company labs, and the only one available for the next month was this ludicrously designed one.  
Discarding her safety googles and lab coat onto an empty workbench Isabelle slumped onto a stool.  
Starting at Stark Industries a year ago had been a dream come true, for the first time she was doing something that she thought she really wanted, but now… Now she wasn’t so sure. In her old life when she’d felt lost, she could always count on her friends to pick her back up – Bruce used to make a mean hot chocolate accompanied by an attentive ear and Sam had been like a brother to her ever since she’s met him, and no matter what he always lifted her spirits. Her new life felt lonely.  
Deciding to call it a day Isabelle exited the lab; she would stick to research from books and planning for the time being. 

As she pulled the door shut, she wondered not for the first time whether she had made the right decision in turning down Sousa’s job offer. Who you want to be, the person you imagine yourself as in your mind and the person you actually are don’t always co-exist. What if she’d made a mistake? 

Strolling through the reception of Stark Industries, a glistening marvel of innovative thinking and creation, Isabelle felt tired. Bone tired.  
A voice from behind the desk pulled her out of her musings about where was the best place to stop for ice-cream. Dorothy, an elderly receptionist with thick cat-eyed glasses was waving at her frantically. Normally Isabelle would stop for a chat with the woman, they got on well and would occasionally grab lunch together, but today she just wanted to leave. The woman was gesturing to the phone in her hand indicating that whomever was on the line wanted Isabelle so she walked over.  
This better be good, she thought.

“Isabelle Bennet. Stark Industries.”  
“Hello, Isabelle, it’s Daniel.”  
His voice was like a ray of sunshine after a thunder storm. Though they often met up for breakfast or to catch up, Sousa only ever called Isabelle at work for one reason: He wanted her to consult on a case.  
“Fancy helping out on a case? We’ve been called in by LAPD, something about a peculiar murder in Echo Park… Want to tag along?”  
Internally Isabelle was jumping for joy. Finally, a legitimate excuse to get out of the lab for a few days.  
“Definitely. Want me to meet you there?”  
“No, I’ll pick you up. See you outside in twenty?”  
“Copy that.”  
The crackling sound of static down the line indicated that Sousa had disconnected. Handing the phone back to Dorothy, Isabelle couldn’t help but smile. Sliding her sunglasses onto her face she stepped out of Stark Industries into the sun.  
Maybe things weren’t so bad after all.

Exiting the car at Echo Park Lake, Sousa and Isabelle spotted a reasonable sized crowd gathered behind the police tape. It wasn’t unusual by any means, people often visited crime scenes gawking like they were at some tourist attraction. Especially when it was a peculiar crime, they’d gather information to spread the gossip over brunch, inevitably causing intel leaks. It infuriated Isabelle to no end, whatever happened to privacy and respect?

Walking towards the tape a middle-aged man in a ruffled suit accosted the pair. Sweating like a sinner in Church and clutching a crumpled handkerchief in his hand, Isabelle instinctively took a step back.  
“You the science cops? Detective Andrew Henry, Homicide.” He introduced himself.  
Nodding courteously Sousa made the introductions.  
“Daniel Sousa and Isabelle Bennet. Strategic Scientific Reserve.”

“What have we got?” Sousa probed as the detective began leading them around the police tape.  
“You ever hear of the ‘Lady of the Lake’ killings?”  
Isabelle wasn’t familiar with the case and in her peripheral vision could see Sousa shaking his head.  
“I can’t say that I have.” She admitted.  
Detective Henry did a double take upon hearing her accent for the first time, eyebrows rising ever so slightly.  
“How long have you been in LA?”  
“Since last June.”

And thus, the detective began his story. Two women brutally murdered, bodies dumped in the lake and the killer promptly vanishing into thin air in spite of a colossal man hunt. That was all two years ago and since there had been not a hide or hair of him, until today.  
“You found another body?” Isabelle asked, surprised.  
“In the exact same lake. No two ways about it, my guy’s back.”  
All in all, it seemed relatively simple case. A serial killer on the loose, but that didn’t exactly fall under SSR purview. So, unless there was something else, Isabelle realised that she’d be back staring at textbooks and maths equations by the afternoon. The thought was like a stone sinking in a lake in the pit of her stomach.  
“So why was the SSR called in?” Sousa questioned, evidently having the same reservations as Isabelle.  
“If it was up to me, you’d be working on your tans right now, but my Lieutenants got a bee in is bonnet about jurisdiction. Hottest day of the year, right? Only the lake doesn’t know it.”  
Sousa and Isabelle glanced at each other, matching looks of confusion on their face. Then the detective blew their minds. And just like that they joined the crowds gawking at the lake. Frozen solid like the iceberg that sunk the Titanic. It wouldn’t have been out of place in an arctic winter but in a Californian summer heatwave – it was novel.  
But that wasn’t all.

A chunk of ice had been carved from the lake, and encased inside was the second part of the mystery. A dead woman; Detective Henry’s Lady of the Lake victim.  
It was horrific but also incredibly intriguing.

Isabelle and Sousa stayed at the crime scene a little longer, sweltering under the morning sun while they collected evidence, took witness statements and corroborated with LAPD on how the joint task force was going to work.  
Extracting samples of ice from the lake and from the slab which housed their Jane Doe, Isabelle asked Sousa for permission to see this case through to the end. He was more than happy to oblige, glad to be working with her again. Her curiosity was piqued – how does a 28-foot-deep lake become frozen during a heatwave?  
And perhaps partnering with Sousa would erase the lingering feeling of lonely that followed her like a shadow. She loved Howard and the Jarvis’s but she missed having friends around constantly.

Never in her life had Isabelle encountered a frozen lake in the middle of a heatwave, not on earth or any of the other planets she’d visited. It certainly was something for the record books.  
Taking a seat back in Sousa’s office, she began scanning an old news article from the library archives about the Lady of the Lake killer. If it was the same person, then she figured it was best to know the case history and patterns they followed.  
Sousa was tapping his fingers on his desk, holding a phone to his ear. When they’d left the crime scene, he’d admitted they were going to need more help and though he was loathe to do it, he’d need to ask Thompson to send him some.  
Suddenly the call was patched through and Jack Thompson was on the other end of the line. Isabelle felt a funny feeling stir in her stomach hearing his voice float muffled from the receiver. 

“How’s the surf today Agent Sousa?” Thompson’s voice came crackling through and it took a lot of self-control from Sousa not to roll his eyes.  
“That’s Chief Sousa to you.”  
Looking up he caught Isabelle smirking behind the newspaper she was reading. Evidently, she was amused by the repartee between the two SSR Chiefs.  
“Congratulations Jack. I hear you caught Dottie Underwood.” Sousa continued, honestly impressed they’d managed to apprehend the Russian, who’d been evading them since they’d shut down the Stark case the previous year.  
“Yeah, we caught a lead right after you left to open the West Coast Bureau. Looks like you were our bad luck charm.”  
Sousa supressed a groan at the joke which the blond on the other end of the line sounded proud of.  
“You tell that joke at least once a month.”  
Isabelle was going slightly pink from trying not to laugh, so Sousa decided to be a professional grown up and stick his tongue out at her. Unable to supress it any longer she ducked out the room.  
As Sousa heard her faint laugh from the other side of the door, he got down to business with his East Coast counterpart.

Standing in the observation room in New York, Thompson was curious as to why Sousa was really calling. They usually had a catch-up every other Saturday, which today was not, so it was obviously something work related.

“What you got?”  
“We’ve caught a mystery out here. An ice cube the size of a lake, with a dead woman trapped inside.”  
Whatever Thompson had been expecting, that certainly wasn’t it.  
“Who’s the body?” His intrigue was plain as day.  
“I don’t know yet. I’ve got a homicide detective who says this is the work of a serial killer he’s been chasing the past two years. I’m heading up a taskforce with him…”  
He heard Sousa pause.  
“But Jack, my LA office is too green.”  
And there it was, Thompson had figured it wouldn’t be a social call at this hour. Sparing a cursory glance to the interrogation being conducted, he turned his focus back to Sousa.  
“So what? You want to leave New York thin because the moment you catch a real case you throw your hands up in the air?”  
“You know I’m understaffed as is. I’m sure you can spare one guy.” Sousa practically pleaded down the phone.  
Thompson paused, the New York SSR had just made a break on what could potentially become their biggest case, in truth he didn’t want to send anyone. Glancing up through the two-way mirror at the interrogation unfolding, he had a terrible idea. Sousa had upended his entire life out west for one singular reason, anyone with eyes could see it.  
Smiling to himself, he answered.  
“I have just the man for you.”

“Thank you.”  
Sousa was just putting down the phone when Isabelle re-entered, he looked slightly happier than he had done when they’d left the crime scene.  
“Well?”  
“Thompson’s going to send someone.”  
Isabelle nodded, pinning a piece of paper onto the case board they were compiling before opening a file to double check a piece of information.  
She heard Sousa’s voice from behind her.  
“You can’t hide from them forever. They were your friends they should know you’re okay.”  
There were times when he sounded just like her big brother.  
Taking a deep breath not even looking up from the file in her hands, Isabelle wished it could be that simple.


	22. Trouble's Gonna Follow Where I Go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The events of this chapter occur during Season 2 Episode 1 : The Lady In The Lake

The office was abuzz with agents working, this frozen lake homicide had everyone on their toes, and since it was a joint operation with the LAPD, all the agents had lots of catching up to do.

A crisp British accent sounded from behind Sousa. He recognised that voice, but she was in New York, not here. Why would she be here?  
Turning away from the agent he’d been conversing with Sousa saw Peggy standing there, the Californian sun shining through the window illuminating her so she glowed like an angel.  
“Peggy? What are you doing here?”  
“The Lady of the Lake killer.”  
“Right?” Sousa wasn’t following, why was she interested in the case.  
“Thompson said you requested back up.”  
Sousa mentally cursed. Of course the blond Chief would send Peggy, meddlesome prat. Regaining his composure, Sousa began trying to appear unfazed by the arrival of the Brit, which was hard when his heart felt like it was beating double time.  
“Yes, yes of course.”  
“Unless you’ve solved it already.”  
“No. No, I was expecting –“  
“You didn’t put the request in?”  
“No, I did -” This wasn’t going well by any means. Why couldn’t Thompson have at least given him a heads up, he was mentally cursing him ten ways to hell.  
“But not for me.” Was that disappointment in Peggy’s voice?  
“I just didn’t think you were coming ‘til tomorrow.” Sousa said, attempting to salvage whatever he could of this incredibly awkward encounter.  
Did California get sinkholes because he was silently praying the floor would swallow him up; or that any minute he’d wake up and this would all have been a terrible dream. If Peggy was in New York then he wasn’t tripping over himself like a prepubescent teenager, and he could maintain some modicum of dignity.  
But reaching his hand out to shake hers, he knew this was most definitely not a dream. Swallowing his pride, he started acting like a professional.  
“Welcome to Los Angeles.”

Walking through the SSR, Isabelle’s brain was firing off on all cylinders. This morning she’d taken the samples of ice extracted from the lake to the lab to run a preliminary test and hadn’t been able to find anything weird about them. The lattice structure appeared normal it wasn’t emitting any radiation or showing obvious traces of foreign chemicals. So, on first analysis there was no obvious reason why the lake had frozen over. But there had to be. Maybe the body would hold an answer.  
Before driving over, Isabelle had revisited the frozen lake, searching for answers to the mystery. Perhaps once it began to thaw the truth would begin to emerge.

Walking towards Sousa’s office to give him her initial report she froze. Feeling herself inhale sharply, Isabelle looked at who Sousa was talking to. For just over a year, she’d successfully separated her life, categorising the before - when she lived in the 21st century and was an avenger, and the now - where she lived in California in the 1940’s and worked for Howard Stark, and the messy time in between. Standing across the room Isabelle saw someone who she knew was about to pull down all the prison walls she’d been erecting around her past.  
Swallowing her fears and her guilt and her hope, Isabelle walked over to Sousa and Peggy. They looked like awkward teenagers and she very nearly laughed.

“Why didn’t you return my messages?” Peggy was asking, and Isabelle noted the way Sousa shifted his weight before responding.  
“Because sometimes a three-hour time difference feels like a lifetime.  
“Nice save.” Isabelle heard herself uttering beneath her breath.  
Deciding now was the best time to save this car crash of a reunion she butted in before Peggy could respond.

“Daniel, I’ve got the initial analysis on the ice from the lake, reckon it’ll tell us more once the thaw begins.” She said, handing over the file before turning to face Peggy.  
“Hey Peggy. Welcome to Hollywood.”  
Isabelle flashed the Brit a smile but felt her insides squirm with guilt when Peggy’s eyes widened in shock.  
“Isabelle? What are you doing here? Why? How?” She stuttered as she embraced her friend.  
“I’ll explain later.” Isabelle promised, spotting their homicide detective heading their way.  
“It’s a hell of a story.” Sousa said foot in mouth.  
He had kept his word and not told anyone but he probably shouldn’t have mentioned that he knew the story.  
“What happened?”  
Peggy’s voice was full of worry, why hadn’t her friend gone home. Then her mind caught up with her hearing and she turned to Sousa who was suddenly looking like a kid with their hand in the biscuit tin under Isabelle’s gaze.  
“How long have you known Isabelle was back?”  
Saved by the bell the detective came over holding stacks of boxes.  
“I’ve got three more boxes of old case files downstairs.” He announced, ignoring the elephant in the room.

Brokering introductions, Sousa got everyone down to business. Isabelle was amazed at how tunnel-visioned the detective was, all he cared about was catching a killer, who for all they knew was a copycat. His insistence that they just needed to use the press was also completely unprofessional in her book, causing mass hysteria that a serial killer is on the loose would only make things worse. This was so much bigger than the poor victim.  
“What if the frozen lake and the murder aren’t connected?” Peggy piped up.  
The detective looked at her like she’d lost her marbles, but to Sousa and Isabelle it made logical sense.  
“How’d you figure?”  
“You think they’re unrelated.” Sousa stated. “The body was dropped at another time.”  
“But was only found when another incident caused the lake to freeze.” Isabelle finished.  
“Unlikely.” Sousa said.  
“It’s doubtful.” Peggy added.  
“But not impossible.” The trio were working harmoniously, completely in sync, while the detective stood awkwardly on the side-lines.  
“What was that old Dooley saying?”  
“Explore all avenues for unturned stones.”  
On that note Sousa walked away to begin working this new angle.  
“What’s a Dooley?” The detective questioned, unsure of if it was a New York thing.  
“The SSR came on board because a body of water froze during a heatwave. The first step we should take is confirming whether or not the dead body and the frozen lake are even the same crime.” Peggy informed him before following Sousa, leaving the detective standing there like a schoolchild who’s just been given an important lesson by a teacher.  
And just like that, Isabelle was working with the SSR and Peggy again. If she was honest… it felt good.

It was bitterly cold. Like Russia in the depths of winter, cold.  
Isabelle, Peggy, Sousa and the detective were crowded around the autopsy table at the coroner’s office staring down at their Jane Doe’s frozen corpse. The ice around her had been dispersed of but she was still as solid as a rock.  
Heater’s lined the room but the cold she seemed to be emanating still seeped through their summer clothing piercing their souls.  
“This isn’t a layer of frostbite. She’s frozen through and through.” The Coroner was saying, and it was true.

Looking at the body, Isabelle noted she was as frozen as the Christmas Turkey had been sitting in the bath for defrosting when she was nine, when her Dad had forgotten to take it out before the guests had arrived. She recalled how the turkey had taken all day to show any semblance of thawing and their Christmas Dinner had consisted solely of vegetables and potatoes.  
“She’s only beginning to thaw. You’ll have to wait a bit longer, unless you want the autopsy performed with a chisel.” He continued. Isabelle noted the last part seemed sarcastic.

“Is there anything you can tell us from a visual inspection?” Sousa probed.  
Sighing at their persistence, the coroner pointed out the key features.  
“Her stab wounds are consistent with the other Lady of the Lake victims.”  
At the other end of the body Detective Henry pulled back the modesty cloth to reveal the feet.  
“Here are the shoes.”  
Isabelle glanced at them, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “They’re on the wrong feet.”  
“The killer’s signature is to switch his victim’s shoes.” The coroner informed her.  
“That detail was never released to the papers. See, we’ve got our guy.”  
Isabelle resisted the urge to retort that they didn’t actually know _who_ their guy was.  
“Do we know whether the body caused the lake to freeze, or vice versa?” Peggy asked, not allowing the detectives triumphant bravado negate the reason three out of four were in the room.  
The Coroner walked around them to the opposite side of the room by the heaters.  
“No. And to add to the ever-growing list of things we don’t know. I can’t explain this either.”  
And with that he turned off the lights. The corpse of the dead woman was glowing, a luminescent, eerie blue glow. Not something anybody, dead or alive, should be doing.  
“Fetch a chisel.” Isabelle ordered.

Looking through the microscope in the SSR Lab at a sample of ice chipped from the body, Isabelle noticed discrepancies that hadn’t been obvious in her previous samples.  
“That’s not ice.” The SSR’s scientist informed them.  
“What is it?” Questioned Peggy.  
The scientist shrugged.  
“Short answer is: I don’t know. So’s the long answer.”  
“And there’s nothing else you can tell us?”  
At that point the scientist began whinging and Isabelle tuned him out, turning her focus back to the sample. There was something, she just couldn’t put her finger on it.

“What about the glow?” Peggy asked, snapping everyone back to the issue at hand.  
Doctor Samberly, as he had just made abundantly clear was his name, began explaining the peculiarities in the dead body’s ‘ice’ structure.  
“The non-native matter is in radio isotopic form, ionising the nitrogen molecules in the air and blood to create the luminescence. The only occurrence that could create such a phenomenon is by producing the radio isotope in the form of Uranium.”  
“What does that even mean?”  
To her left, Isabelle heard the confusion in Detective Henry’s voice, but she simply nodded along.  
“It means she was near a particle accelerator.” She informed the bemused man.  
“The one used in the Manhattan Project is in Tennessee.” Sousa pointed out.  
“There is another one in Pasadena.” Samberly informed the group.  
“At Isodyne Energy?”  
Isabelle knew they had a large facility in that area, working with Howard meant she knew where lots of different Science corporations had facilities and laboratories.  
Samberly nodded, turning away mumbling to himself. He was a strange one, Isabelle wasn’t sure what she thought of him.

“What is Isodyne Energy?” Peggy asked.  
Both Peggy and Sousa were looking at Isabelle expectantly.  
“It’s a development lab that’s primary focus is fuel initiatives. Supposedly. Worth a road trip don’t you think?”  
Sousa raised his eyebrow at her enthusiasm.  
“Doesn’t Stark need you back at the labs?”  
“Nah, Howard’s busy doing his movie project thing. I can come and go as I please. Besides I desperately need a break, my research is soul destroying. And this case is just starting to get interesting.”  
“Wait, you’ve been working for Howard?” 

Sousa conceded and as the group exited the lab Peggy looked at Isabelle properly. She hadn’t seen her for little over a year and yet she seemed s different. Her personality, her essence remained unchanged. But she seemed almost settled, like she had put down roots; compared to their previous adventure when she seemed lost in the world. Peggy noticed the few physical changes as well, Isabelle’s hair was shorter and the reddish hues had become more prominent, Peggy attributed that to the sun, making her look almost ginger; she’d also adopted her own quirk on the current trends. She looked good and happy. It made her wonder…


	23. The Rain Is Always Gonna Come If You're Standing With Me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The events of this chapter occur during Season 2 Episode 1 : The Lady In The Lake

It seemed that their trip to Isodyne was going to turn out as a waste of time. The receptionist was nothing if not pedantic about following the rules in the job description, and their lack of a warrant was proving to be a thorn in their side as she would not let them search the place without it.  
But that didn’t sway Peggy from finding a way.  
“Before we leave may I use your restroom?” She inquired, earning a whinging remark from Detective Henry, but Isabelle followed her gaze to where scientists were coming and going through a door.  
Catching on, Isabelle stomped on Sousa’s foot to get him to distract the receptionist who was tracking Peggy with her eyes.  
“Do I need a search warrant to know how many years you’ve worked at Isodyne?”  
The receptionist turned into a puddle under Sousa’s charms, promptly batting her eyelids and unabashedly flirting at him. He most certainly had a way with the ladies, the Sousa charm was much more subtle than Howard’s but just as effective. It was all Isabelle could do but wait outside, unable to maintain a straight face.

When Sousa and the Detective exited the building a short while later, Isabelle was perched on the bonnet of the car, basking like a cat in the sunshine. Why shouldn’t she work on her tan while saving the world?  
“You alright there Iz?” Sousa called, eyeing her shoes that she’d dropped on the floor and her legs stretched out before her on his car.  
“Wonderful. Any luck inside?”  
As if on cue Peggy exited the building, the receptionist escorting her looking thoroughly displeased.  
A tall, handsome man in a lab coat accompanied Peggy and Isabelle eyed the pair with interest as they spoke. They were far enough away that she couldn’t make out everything they were saying but he was hitting on her and much to Isabelle’s amusement Peggy was flustered. She had always pictured the agent as being unflappable but here she was floundering for words.

Jumping off the car, Isabelle slipped her feet back into her shoes leaning ungracefully against Sousa for balance. He rolled his eyes, prodding her in the side, a spot he’d learnt she was extremely ticklish in, thanks to a beach trip she’d gone on with Violet, nearly making her fall over.

“Who’s your new friend?” Isabelle asked as soon as Peggy re-joined the group.  
“His name’s Doctor Jason Wilkes.”  
“Nice name, nice face too. He single?”  
“Isabelle!” Peggy chided her, completely surprised by her friends utter lack of restraint: perhaps that was why her and Howard had hit it off from the get go, they both possessed absolutely no filter.  
“What I’m just asking for a friend. He seemed like he’s really into you.”  
Practically stuttering, Peggy couldn’t help but feel her cheeks getting warm. It was the effect of the sun, nothing more.  
“No, he didn’t, he was being friendly.” She denied.  
“Hmm if you say so. But I’d totally tap that.” Isabelle remarked, watching the doctor walk back into the building.  
Peggy’s cheeks turned pink as she stared at Isabelle who was utterly shameless clambering into the back of the car.

Back at the SSR, the team got cracking on the case. With so many different avenues to look down a divide and conquer method was being undertaken. Peggy was adamant they needed to immediately interrogate Mr Chadwick, the owner of Isodyne who it had transpired had been having an affair with their dead woman. But Detective Henry strongly opposed the idea, afraid of ruffling powerful feathers.  
Eyeing Sousa’s office, Isabelle was glad she wasn’t in charge, someone else could experience that headache.

Once she had seen the detective exit the office, Isabelle headed in. The less time she had to spend in that man’s vicinity the better. He was bound to say something she didn’t like and well… there would be a lot of paperwork to fill out after.

Sousa was sitting alone in his office massaging his temples, having issued jobs to the detective and Peggy. He looked exhausted.  
“Nicely done.” Isabelle said nodding in the direction of the detective who had just left.  
“I take it you’re not a fan of our new detective friend?”  
Sousa groaned. “What gave it away?”  
Chuckling slightly Isabelle peered at their case board that was decidedly fuller than it had been at the start of the day, but the case was still about as clear as mud.  
“But I do have all these case files to go through. Fancy sticking around for a few more hours?”  
“I’d love to.”  
Eyeing the stack of folders on the desk, she pulled out a chair and sat down, grabbing the closest file. Sousa’s eyes were piercing as he looked at her, studying her as intently as one of the case files on the desk.

“You going to tell her why you’re really here?”  
By ‘her’ Isabelle knew he meant Peggy. She knew she ought to tell her the truth but it was hard.  
Somehow not telling anyone had seemed so easy in theory and for almost a year it had been fine. Isabelle had settled into a semi-normal life. She’d joined a book club and a boxing club; she regularly went out for drinks with people from work and had started building a life. Even if it was a façade. Then Sousa had appeared in LA, and that idea suddenly seemed childish and crude.  
How do you tell someone that you’ve been essentially hiding from them for a year because you were scared of being wanted and being yourself?  
“I don’t know. Are you going to tell her about Violet and that sparkler you’ve bought?”  
Isabelle wasn’t blind she knew that Sousa had feelings for Peggy last year, whether he still harboured them she wasn’t completely sure, but she also knew that Peggy liked him. But like her, Sousa had started afresh in LA which included having a new girlfriend who was incredible and kind and beautiful.  
“Touché.”  
Sousa turned back to the file in his hands, flicking through the LAPD reports when what Isabelle had said registered. He looked up at her, face aghast.  
“How do you know about the ring?”  
Isabelle just winked in response, terrifying him.

There are some mysteries that are easy to solve, such as who ate the last brownie when they have chocolate all around their face, but others get more befuddling the longer you look at them.  
By the time the phone call came in from the Coroner that the autopsy was completed and they needed to come down there to have a look, Isabelle had information pouring out of her ears. It was little wonder the Lady of the Lake killer had got away: the reports were about as organised as a pair of odd socks and no-one had even pin-pointed the key facts just created a jumble of facts and shoved them in a file.  
But what should’ve made everything clearer only added more dirt to a murky window.  
A mystery wrapped inside a riddle with a bow on top, that is what this case was. When they’d arrived in the autopsy room the Medical Examiner had exploded like a firework on Guy Fawkes Night and his report stated that the stab wounds from their ‘Lady of the Lake killer’ were post-mortem. Not what they’d expected.  
But, despite the new questions that were emerging a few answers were gained. The murder victim was most definitely killed as part of a cover-up, of what, as of now they were unsure, but the Detective who’d been aiding them the entire time was involved, and had now disappeared having assaulted Jarvis and kidnapped Peggy’s friend Doctor Wilkes.  
Isabelle was sure the mysteries were never this complicated when she used to watch Scooby Doo as a kid, but she wouldn’t deny that in spite of everything she was having fun.

This wasn’t how she’d pictured her day going. Perched in the back seat of the car tending to Jarvis’ bleeding nose, chasing down a detective who was somehow involved in the frozen lake and dead woman mystery. Definitely not what she’d pictured when she crawled out of bed that morning.  
“The suspect is Detective Andrew Henry LAPD. He is armed and dangerous. Approach with caution.” Sousa was informing the police back-up through the radio while driving after him.  
Jarvis pushed himself up, groaning. They had had little choice but to bring him, a civilian, along on their car chase.  
“Is it broken?” He inquired tentatively touching his injured appendage.  
“You’ll live. Keep your head back.” Isabelle instructed, holding the tissue to his nose.  
Jarvis was unimpressed with Isabelle’s mothering and snatched the tissue.  
“Of course, I’ll live. I was worried about the aesthetic. Ana is absolutely mad about my profile.”  
Conceding Isabelle shared a look with Peggy, the Butler was certainly something else. Sousa’s voice interrupted before either woman could say anything.  
“Look!”

The detective’s car was parked up, with doors open on the side of the road. Abandoned. The quartet scrambled out the car to go have a look, but Peggy refused to allow Jarvis to leave the vicinity of the SSR vehicle.  
“Keep your head down. A bullet hitting your nose will be harder to explain to Ana.”

Sousa and Peggy drew their weapons and the trio headed to the car.  
“Andrew Henry? Jason Wilkes? If you’re inside come out with your hands raised!” Sousa ordered, but to nobody’s surprise there was no response.  
The car was frozen, as if it’d been sitting outside on a night of sub-zero temperatures as opposed to the high twenties that were currently present.  
“The windows are frosted over.” Isabelle pointed out, stating the obvious, while brushing her fingers that were glowing with gentle flames across the back windscreen. It didn’t even leave a mark.  
Sousa stuck his head inside the car, the interior of which was several degrees colder than the air outside.  
“The steering column is frozen, he had to ditch the car.”  
Picking up a business card from the passenger seat, Peggy had a determined look in her eyes.  
“Doctor Wilkes left us a breadcrumb.”

The trio headed back to Jarvis who was standing by Sousa’s car. Instructing him to stay put and point the back-up in the right direction. Isabelle raised her eyebrows but refrained from commenting, when Peggy removed her secondary weapon from a thigh holster and gave it to the butler. Splitting up the trio went in search of the detective and his hostage; hopeful they would reach him in time to get some answers before he inevitably followed in Jane Scott and the coroner’s human icicle footsteps.

When they found him, Detective Henry was shaking, his skin starting to blister and freeze. It was horrific to look at.  
Isabelle stood facing him laterally blocking his possible escape route while Peggy and Sousa stood before him.  
“Put down the gun.” Peggy ordered.  
“Or what? You’re gonna kill me? Look at me, I’m dying!”  
Isabelle didn’t particularly like the man but she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness for him, he looked frightened. His eyes darting around as if looking for a miracle that was never going to come.  
“We can help you.” Peggy was pleading with him to no avail.  
“We can work this out.” Sousa added, looking down the barrel of the detective’s gun which was pointed at him and slowly starting to freeze. He was wary that it could explode if the ice increased the pressure too much. He really didn’t want to get shot.  
“They’re not gonna let us.” Detective Henry practically cried.  
Isabelle couldn’t work out if the fear in his eyes was because of his imminent death or of whoever had him under their thumb.  
“Who’s _they_? Detective, who won’t let us?” Isabelle asked.  
A sudden bang and wind whistling just past her ear caused Isabelle to duck, hands erupting in flames before her.  
As the bullet struck the dying detective he shattered into thousands of tiny pieces, just like the coroner had done an hour or so previously.

Isabelle could hear Peggy shouting at someone but she sounded miles away, as if she was on the beach and Isabelle was floundering below water. Her heart was pounding frantically against her chest and she felt like there was a bung in her windpipe. She could barely breathe. 

Peggy was angry. She’d been explicit that there were to be no weapons discharged, and yet the officer had ‘left his gun in his car’ and missed the order. It didn’t seem likely, especially given what the detective had been claiming seconds before. This was bigger than they’d been led to believe initially.  
Rugged breathing snapped Peggy’s focus to Isabelle who was crouched on the floor. The bullet that had struck the detective had missed her by inches. Peggy walked towards her, squatting so she was eye-level with her friend.  
Reaching forward Peggy put her hand on Isabelle’s arm.  
“Isabelle are you alright?”  
When Isabelle looked up, Peggy noticed her hands were clenched in fists, flames dancing threateningly around them and her eyes seemed to be glowing.

Peggy’s face swam into focus, and the noise began to seem closer, louder, more defined. Exhaling she nodded. As she rose to her feet, Isabelle put on her best smile, shaking her hands so that they were no longer flaming.  
“Fine. Nothing like almost having a bullet in the back of your skull to round up a day.” She laughed but Peggy didn’t look convinced.  
“Are you sure? I’m so sorry you’ve got caught up in this again.”  
“No, it’s all good. Where did you get the thigh holster from?” Isabelle said quickly changing the subject.  
Isabelle noticed how Peggy’s cheeks turned a soft pink, which made her smile a little less forced.  
“Ana Jarvis made it for me.”  
“Isn’t she amazing.” Isabelle sighed. “For Christmas she made me this incredible painting of one of my photographs. I should show you sometime.”  
“Christmas? Isabelle how long have you been here? Why aren’t you back home?”  
Peggy was growing worried for the super-powered woman. She had been so excited to see her in the SSR office that morning but now a niggling feeling in her gut was warning her that something wasn’t right with Isabelle.  
Isabelle glanced at her watch, completely ignored Peggy’s question, intensifying the worry.  
“Right, I need to dash. I promised my neighbours I’d babysit their kids tonight. I’ll see you around Peggy.” She promised, walking away.

Isabelle would tell Peggy everything. She would. But she wasn’t ready for that conversation yet. Maybe tomorrow.


	24. Time Is Taking It's Sweet Time Erasing You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The events of this chapter occur during Season 2 Episode 1: The Lady In The Lake

Since joining the SSR Thompson had interrogated a wide variety of individuals, had learnt how to spot tells and push someone just enough that they would crumble and reveal all their dirty little secrets. But the Russian currently tapping her fingers on the interrogation table merely looked bored. It was going to be a long night.  
Picking up the carrot and wooden stick from the table in the observation room, he opened the door and walked in to start the show

Lounging back in her chair, Dottie Underwood was completely nonchalant, despite having been arrested by a US federal agency.  
“It’s been over 24 hours. Shouldn’t I get a phone call?”  
Her voice was almost taunting but Thompson refused to let her penetrate his defences. He ignored her instead rolling up his sleeves. This was his agency and he was in charge.  
When he didn’t respond, Dottie tried a new question.  
“Where’s Peggy?”  
Thompson couldn’t help but think that this woman was obsessive when it came to Carter, the new hairstyle she’d adopted was proof of that.  
“Carter? She’s moved on to a new case. You’re yesterday’s news for her.” Thompson said, pushing her buttons.  
He noticed how she sat up straighter, eyes growing darker.  
“But who’s going to interrogate me?” 

Once again, he ignored her question, sticking to the plan he’d formulated in his head. But it irked him, the way she acted as if nobody else could possibly do it. Putting his foot on his seat he looked down at her.  
Slowly he began to speak, steady and calm.  
“My boss and I used to have this routine to get suspects to turn. He was the carrot and I was the stick. He spoke smoothly and I didn’t speak at all. See the problem is that you and your commie friends… well, you killed the carrot.”  
Thompson reached forward removing the carrot from the table and flung it onto the floor. He noted how Dottie’s eyes never left him.  
Taking a note from Peggy he put his hand into his pocket and removed a set of keys. Leaning over the table he unlocked the handcuffs, internally smirking at the look of intrigue that she wore as he did so.  
“And I’m not afraid of you. What you’re going to tell me -”

Suddenly Dottie was out of her seat and before he could even react, Thompson was pushed to the floor. The weight of the table pressed down on his throat and he found himself struggling to breathe.  
Dottie’s eyes were maniacal staring down at him. Smirking from her position where she held his life in her hands, she taunted him.  
“You’re too easy. We need Peggy.”  
Trapped, Thompson lay gasping for breath, feeling utterly helpless. As several agents rushed in and pulled the Russian off of him, he couldn’t help but recall the last time someone had tried choking him.  
Her face flashed across his memory, reaching out to help him after she’d knocked Sousa out and saved his life. His heart panged at the thought and he couldn’t help but think she would have been disappointed in his technique. Especially considering how once again he’d underestimated a woman, something his time with her had taught him not to do. 

As he sat in his office massaging his tender throat, he glanced at the framed photo of the pair of them on his desk, now surrounded by other personal effects and photographs. God, he missed her. Hopefully he’d live long enough to see her again, even if he was old and wrinkled and she was still as beautiful as she’d been the day they last spoke.  
He’d just have to survive his next round of interrogating Underwood. Because right now it was:  
Underwood – 1 Thompson – 0. 

A few hours later, Thompson sat facing Dottie Underwood once more. His throat was throbbing but he wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of knowing she’d hurt him.  
Between his fingers he twiddled the item that had been removed from the safety deposit box that the Russian had been attempting to rob. It was the only thing in there, a simple pin.  
Her eyes were trained on him as he held it in his hands.  
“Tell me, who were you stealing this pin from? Why did you want it so badly?” He began.  
“Now that I have your interest, what will you give me?”  
This bloody woman he thought.  
“I’m going to give you … a beating you won’t forget.” He threatened but even he knew it lacked lustre.  
Then as a blow to his ego, Dottie had the audacity to chuckle and lean back smiling.  
“If you want more from me than a sore throat, this needs to be an exchange. The girls would’ve known that.”  
As she shrugged, Thompson became confused.  
“What girls?”  
The only female field agent at the SSR was Peggy, so what was she on about. Perhaps Peggy had whacked her head when apprehending her.  
Dottie was looking at him like he’d lost his marbles.  
“Peggy and the pretty English one at Stark’s air strip. Patched my side up then told me to leave while Peggy was off playing hero.”  
Pretty English at Stark’s. Thompson felt like she’d punched him, he suddenly had no air in his lungs. 

“Isabelle.” He whispered under his breath.  
Isabelle had been with them while Peggy was in the radio room. Her hands had been covered in blood that wasn’t her own. She’d also mysteriously lost her blouse between them sending off Jarvis and taking down Fehnhoff, he’d noticed how the collar had vanished from over her jumper but hadn’t commented on it. But she wouldn’t have let Dottie go, would she?  
Dottie was grinning from ear to ear, smug that she had another bargaining chip. Also amused at the way he’d uttered the name as if it were sacred.  
“Isabelle, hmm. She would have given me an exchange.” She said confidently.  
Quickly regaining his composure Thompson studied the Russian’s face. She wasn’t lying but her arrogance was grating his nerves.  
“And what does that sick head of yours think they would’ve offered you?”  
“Deportation is better than prison.” She responded casually.  
Leaning back, he tilted his head to the side. “Prison is better than the electric chair.”  
“Deal.” Dottie said cheerfully. “Show me the paperwork and I’ll tell you exactly who I was stealing that lapel pin from. And why.” 

Relieved that suddenly the interrogation was headed somewhere, Thompson began to move forward when the door burst open and two men in suits walked in. One carrying a set of bolt cutters headed straight for Dottie.  
“Hey. This is a federal investigation. Who let you in here?” Thompson was angry as he rose from his chair.  
Dottie simply looked amused as she was being cut loose. A familiar figure walked through the door and Thompson suddenly felt even worse.  
“I did Jack. The Federal Bureau of Investigations will be taking custody of Miss Underwood.” His godfather, Vernon Masters stated.  
“Jack you are doing great work, really making a name for yourself.” He added, condescendingly.  
“Then why does the FBI get the prize?” He snapped watching as the two men relieved Dottie of her cuffs, he was just getting somewhere on his biggest case as Chief.  
“Let’s get a drink.” Masters said.  
Thompson felt like a child, and stubbornly refused to budge. Anger decorating his eyes.  
As the men escorted Dottie out of the interrogation room she turned to Thompson.  
“Tell Peggy I said bye.”  
He wanted to scream. Watching Master’s pick up the pin from the table he couldn’t help but feel undermined. What did the FBI think they were doing? They were all working towards the same goal, did they not trust him to get the job done?  
“Come on Jack.” Masters called from the doorway.  
Looking at the empty interrogation room, Thompson unwillingly obliged. He’d be damned if he was buying. 

Bustling crowds filled the pub, loud and tipsy men shaking off the cobwebs from a long day’s work, but at the bar Thompson sat pensive nursing his whiskey. Internally he was livid, he and his office had worked tirelessly to apprehend Dottie and the FBI had the audacity to essentially steal her from them.  
“Do you have any idea how much leg work it took to catch Dottie Underwood?” He asked Masters who was sat beside him.  
“Of course, I do.”  
“Don’t you trust me to grill her?”  
Thompson didn’t know what he would do if his Godfather answered in the affirmative. He’d been making headway with the Soviet spy and this interference had lost him any chance at getting answers for the questions he had. That woman had resulted in the death of two of his friends, one who was his mentor at work, and both who had left grieving widows behind. Their families deserved closure, deserved to know that justice was achieved. 

“Jack who’s been your biggest supporter since day one?”  
“You have Vernon.”  
“When your father called me talking about his war hero son acting aimless, who got you the gig at the best intelligence agency both sides of the Atlantic.”  
Shifting uncomfortably, he took a sip of his drink. He knew he owed Vernon a lot, he didn’t like remembering the man he’d been when he’d returned home, and for that he’d be eternally grateful it just felt like this was bigger than that. His entire organisation had slogged for months trying to bring Dottie Underwood to justice and he was supposed to roll over because he owed the start of his career to the man beside him? It wasn’t right.  
“And I appreciate everything you’ve done. I do. I just… I feel like the person who fights the bears should be the one to get the honey.”  
“I’d never steer you wrong, Jack.”  
Thompson believed that, Masters had always had his best interests at heart, but this was his work that was being undermined. The work of his team. 

The pair discussed work for a little while longer and Thompson listened attentively. Some of what was being said he already knew, or had suspected for a while, funding for the SSR had been dwindling since the war had ended and he knew it was a matter of time even if he didn’t want to admit it. He had thought arresting Dottie would highlight to the people holding the purse strings that his organisation was still important and making a difference in the alphabet soup of law enforcement. 

“You’ve got to ask yourself do I want to be the former Chief of the SSR, or the next muckity muck of the next big thing?” Masters questioned, turning the gears in his head.  
After a moments pause, Thompson responded.  
“I want to be in the muck.”  
Beside him an oily smile appeared on Masters face, that if Thompson had noticed would have set off alarm bells in his head. 

The pair shared a few more drinks as the evening progressed, having a catch up and gradually the anger evaporated from the pit of his stomach. Masters was on his side, he knew that, he was in his corner backing him, always had been. As the alcohol ran warm in his veins, he found himself relaxing and actually enjoying the time with the man who’d been a mentor to him his entire life.  
Then Masters mentioned her and his head started spinning.  
It’d been an innocent enough comment, an observation of the photo he had on his desk, but suddenly Thompson was free falling. If Masters wanted to hear about Isabelle then he better be willing to buy the bottle…  
Her face still haunted his dreams, his nightmares, his every waking hour. He’d hear her laughter on the streets, her voice whispering in his ear. Thompson supposed her essence would never leave him, he wished he’d had something to say that would have meant she didn’t.  
Every day though he worked hard to be a good man and live a life that she’d be proud of when he finally saw her again, he was determined he would. In seventy years, he’d find her again and have a host of wondrous stories to tell her, even though he feared they’d lack a certain sunshine without her living them alongside him.


	25. I Packed My Bags Left Cornelia Street Before You Even Knew I Was Gone

The water lapped gently against her skin, washing away her worries, cleansing her sins. In fables and folklore there is always something magical about water, even in the Bible; water gives birth to new life and steals away the dirt from your soul. Isabelle needed to believe that that was what was happening.  
A perk of being friends with Howard Stark is that he allowed free use of his pool whenever, unless of course he was ‘entertaining’, so on mornings like this when the noise in Isabelle’s head was excruciating like standing beside a speaker at a rock concert she could be found in the waters.  
When she’d been an Avenger and even before as an Agent of Shield, Isabelle had stuck to rigorous training always keeping herself on top form and better equipping her dossier for when she had to fight hand-to-hand. Being stuck in the 1940’s wasn’t about to prevent her from keeping in peak health and fitness, so she built up a new range of workout routines that she followed like they were Gospel. A gentle morning swim was always her go to after a workout or when her brain was in a tizzy, and so here she was in Howard’s pool, enjoying the movement of water around her body letting the lapping sound calm her down.

“Keep your core engaged Mr Jarvis!” Isabelle instructed.  
From her spot in the pool, she could see the Butler practicing his weigh-lifting, a hobby he had taken up. When Howard had moved out west with Isabelle and the Jarvis’s in tow, the Butler had decided it was the perfect time to undertake a new hobby. He had sought out Isabelle and blushing enquired if she would be willing to become his tutor in the martial arts, she had jumped at the opportunity and though he was not a natural she was impressed with how far he had come over the past year.  
“One, two, three. Hurgh.”  
As he rose the bar above his head, he made an array of grunts and a bemused Peggy Carter came into eyeline. The very woman who had Isabelle’s stomach in knots.  
After she had returned home last night, Isabelle thought back on everything Sousa had said – Peggy deserved to know the truth. She agreed and had rung Howard’s residence where she knew Peggy would be staying and arranged for them to grab breakfast. Isabelle had barely slept a wink, pacing her bedroom practicing what she was going to say and imagining how Peggy would react. As the morning sun rose Isabelle was in such a state, she decided a run would clear her head but after jogging for five miles still hadn’t relaxed. The only thing she could do was face her fears and pray Peggy would understand. 

Climbing out of the pool, Isabelle regarded the two interacting and couldn’t help the smile that blossomed onto her face.  
After stepping briefly under the shower to rinse off any chemicals, Isabelle relaxed and focussed her mind. Across her body flames erupted, dancing gracefully across her skin, evaporating the water. Shaking her head, Isabelle stopped what she was doing and grinned feeling that her hair and body were dry, as if she’d never been in the pool in the first place.  
Slinging her towel over her shoulder she padded indoors to get changed. Now that Peggy was down, they should probably be leaving for breakfast, but Jarvis could show her some of his new tricks first.

Thirty minutes later Isabelle and Peggy were walking into a small diner for breakfast, the bell above the door tinkling like a windchime as they entered. Sliding into a booth the pair placed their orders and began catching up, talking as if no time had passed though both expertly avoiding the elephant in the room.

Isabelle absentmindedly began folding a napkin as the waitress lay the food before them. Taking a deep breath, she summoned her courage and looked Peggy in the face.  
“I never went home. I can never go home.”  
“Oh.” Peggy looked at her sympathetically, she had feared it would have been something to that extent given how adapted Isabelle was; part of her felt selfish for wishing that Isabelle would stay all those months ago.  
“Howard offered me room and board back in New York and then invited me to move out West with him. I know I should have reached out…”  
Peggy was shaking her head a smile gracing her lips.  
“No, Isabelle you didn’t have to. I understand.”  
She was being so gracious which only made the guilt in her stomach swell. Before Isabelle had even had the chance to say anything Peggy continued.  
“When I joined the SOE, after my brother died, I did the same thing, similarly after Steve’s plane went down and the war ended. It’s hard losing people you love, trust me I know. Figuring out who you are without them around maybe more so, but I’ve learnt that it’s good to have people to talk to. Angie, Mr Jarvis, Howard, they are my friends and my rocks as are you Isabelle. If you need me, I am here for you.”  
“You truly understand?” Isabelle wasn’t sure what to think, but Peggy’s words were ringing true.  
“Of course.”  
The breakfast became an awful lot cheerier after that, both girls sharing stories of what they’d been up to the past year and some light hearted jokes at Howard’s expense. It still amazed both women that despite his womanising reputation women still flung themselves at his feet believing they’d be the one to change him.

“So, Doctor Wilkes,” Isabelle began, laughing as Peggy’s cheeks tinged pink. “he likes you.”  
“I know. And he is very handsome, and incredibly intelligent it’s just…” Peggy stumbled over her words as she slathered butter onto her toast.  
“It’s just?”  
“Well. No, it’s nothing, only…”  
A lightbulb went off in Isabelle’s head and she smiled pityingly at the Brit across from her. “You still have feelings for Sousa.”  
Peggy simply nodded, and Isabelle reached across the table to squeeze her hand. She knew that Sousa was happy with Violet, but didn’t know if Peggy knew. It’s hard to watch people move on without you, to see them burn bridges leaving you stranded on the other side with so many words unsaid.

Peggy was enjoying the breakfast with Isabelle and it felt nice to have fallen back into their easy friendship after time apart.  
“Does Thompson know you’re here?” Peggy inquired with all the subtlety of a T-rex in a tutu. She knew that the New York Chief had harboured feelings for Isabelle during the Stark case, anyone with two brain cells knew it. He would almost always stand beside her and his eyes would follow her as she left and he’d wear what the office had nicknamed the ‘Bennet Smile’ whenever she was around. She also knew he kept the photograph of the two of them in pride of place on his desk.  
Isabelle who’d been sipping on her coffee very nearly spat it over the Brit. “What?”  
“I’ll take that as a no.” Peggy smirked.  
“How, erm how is he?”  
“Thompson? Well, you know still Chief, still irritating but very good at his job.”  
Isabelle was nodding, but she looked a million miles away, lost in thought.  
“Isabelle, did you have feelings for Jack?”

The question stumped Isabelle; she hadn’t really thought about it. Last year she had been so focussed on going home she hadn’t paid much attention to her other feelings. She considered Jack Thompson a friend, didn’t she? It wasn’t anything more, was it?  
Looking up at Peggy she shook her head, traces of a smile on her cheeks.  
“I have no idea what you are on about Peggy. Come on, we have a mystery to solve.”

As they exited the diner Isabelle considered more what Peggy had asked. Maybe there was some truth in it, nobody else she’d ever known got under her skin the way Thompson did, or made her heart beat double time but also make it feel steady. Then there was the fact that every guy she’d agreed to go out with since moving to LA had either been blond or used to serve in the Navy, in other words a Jack Thompson knockoff.  
Perhaps she should give him a call…


	26. Falling Feels Like Flying 'Til The Bone Crush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The events of this chapter occur during Season 2 Episode 2 : A View In The Dark

The clock on the wall was moving agonisingly slow. Isabelle’s day had begun fantastically, she had enjoyed a lovely breakfast with Peggy and had finally confessed the truth to the British agent; then she had been forced to attend an investor’s meeting at Stark Industries which was still happening almost twelve hours later. Naturally it had over-run so while she had assumed, she’d be able to drop in on the SSR and see how the case was developing before the night shift took charge it was now seeming unlikely.

A large man with an even larger moustache and wallet was droning on about the benefits of a certain aspect of the defence contract Howard had signed and it was taking all of Isabelle’s self-control to stay awake. Normally these meetings were fascinating and she thoroughly enjoyed being part of the muck, negotiating the deals and debating the pros and cons of an invention, but today all she wanted was to be out on the streets working the bizarre frozen lake, frozen people case. But, as the only woman on the committee she couldn’t portray herself as anything less than enthusiastic and thus was growing roots listening to the Businessman drone on.

By the time the meeting was adjourned and everybody was free to leave, the night sky had blanketed the city and the stars were twinkling in the sky. Isabelle liked that about the 1940’s – that you could see more stars in the sky above the cities, back home the light pollution hid the heavens from view, but at least here their magic still shone down. 

Despite the late hour, she still popped by the SSR figuring she could at least read a case file to catch up with the days’ developments. Rose and Violet were sitting at the front desk talking animatedly when she arrived and both greeted her with enthusiasm.  
“Izzy, how great to see you. I didn’t realise you were helping out on the case.” Violet was the human embodiment of sunshine, always so positive and cheery, and an all-round good friend.  
Isabelle embraced her, a smile on her face. “Yeah, Sousa asked if I wanted to tag along and honestly, I’m invested. You look stunning, you going out tonight?”  
“Thanks, yeah Daniel and I are having dinner on the beach.”  
“Romantic. Why do guys never do that for us Rose?” Isabelle jested as she perched on the corner of Rose’s desk.  
Laughing Rose responded sarcastically. “I think it’s because we’re ginger.”  
“Must be. You’re a lucky woman Violet.”  
Violet’s face split into an even wider smile her eyes sparkling like the stars outside. Isabelle admired the nurse and was glad that Sousa had brought her into her life, she was also incredibly happy for the pair and had a sneaking suspicion that by the end of the night a certain sparkler would have made its way onto Violets left hand.  
“I sure am. If you’re working the case Izzy, I must remember to give Daniel your jacket so he can give it back to you.”  
It took a moment for Isabelle to understand what Violet was on about before remembering she’d leant her a jacket a fortnight prior when they had been going out to the cinema and a rain storm had appeared out of nowhere.  
“No keep it, it looked amazing on you, made your eyes pop.”  
“The green one, that did suit you Violet.” Rose added, she had bumped into the pair afterwards and agreed the jacket looked phenomenal on the blonde.  
“You sure?” Violet asked.  
“Totally. Now what were you talking about before I interrupted?”  
Isabelle felt a smidgeon of guilt for jumping in on the conversation they’d been enjoying and didn’t want to overstay her welcome by completely off roading their discussion.  
“Surfing. I was saying I like Leo Carrillo.” Rose was a keen surfer and had visited several of the different beaches in California since moving from New York, Isabelle regarded her as the coastal expert if she ever had a day off and fancied the feel of the sea breeze in her hair.  
“Ooh that is a good spot.”  
“I’m telling you Zuma’s got those perfect barrels.” Violet countered.  
“But Malibu has the wind. Violet I’m a purist.”

As the women chatted, Sousa came down from the office looking very handsome in his fresh suit. Isabelle felt a twinge of loneliness when she watched him greet Violet, his entire demeanour shifting, he really cared for her and his eyes lit up like he was seeing an angel when he looked at her.  
“Have a good night ladies.” Sousa waved as he interlinked his arm with Violet and headed for the door.  
The sudden ringing of the phone on the desk made Isabelle jump. As Rose answered it, it became evident that Sousa’s perfect evening was not going to happen as he had planned. While Sousa left to meet Jarvis the three women remained at the office their previous laughter having evaporated from the room.

Peggy Carter is one of those people who are in a league of their own, like a comet in the sky, everything she does seems so impressive. She is the type of person who steals past your defences and takes up root in your heart, once there never to leave. Thus, when she gets herself into any spot of bother you worry more about than you ever thought possible.  
Sousa had disappeared to meet Jarvis somewhere out in the city, wherever Peggy had got into trouble this time while Isabelle and Rose waited at the office for any news. It was arduous, sitting by the phone waiting for it to ring, praying to whoever would listen that Peggy would be okay.

When the two men returned back the women had migrated upstairs to the bull pen, and it was clear as day that their worry was nothing compared to that of Chief Daniel Sousa.  
“You hear from her?” Sousa asked fresh through the door barely pausing for breath.  
Rose took charge as Isabelle eyed the dark-haired man wearily.  
“No. What did you find?”  
“A rather unsettling amount of bullet casings.” Jarvis stated his voice steady but his face betraying his worry. He was remarkably fond of the British agent and felt needlessly guilty that she was out there without back-up, nobody seemed to be thinking of Doctor Wilkes with whom Peggy had been meeting.  
“And her car with its tyres slashed.” Sousa added practically shoving past the women on his way to his office.  
“And no sign of Peggy?” Rose hesitantly asked.  
“Apart from the bullet casings.” Jarvis responded as Sousa slammed his office door. The loud noise made the butler jump slightly and the three watched on as Sousa’s silhouette lost composure behind the closed door.  
Isabelle felt for the second time in two days as if she were out of her body, watching the world unfold around her, people’s voices muffled as if on the other side of a window. This wasn’t right, she shouldn’t be standing in the nice office with its fresh pot of coffee, she should be by her friend aiding her and providing back up. Why wasn’t she?  
“No, Chief’s got a special kind of worry for Peg.” Rose’s voice reached her as if through a funnel and when Sousa exited his office and began issuing orders to his agents, she saw him as if through a new pair of eyes. He hadn’t moved out West to start afresh, he had run away, just like Isabelle had done a year prior.  
“Jarvis, Isabelle, you’re coming with me.” Sousa ordered.  
“Excellent where are we going?”  
“Isodyne. I’m through playing nice.”  
As Sousa marched out the door Isabelle and Jarvis following behind, Isabelle couldn’t quell the uneasy feeling stirring in her gut.

The night air was still when the car pulled to a stop outside the Pasadena facility, but that was the only thing. A lingering smell of smoke wafted through the sky, cruel and choking but evidently less obnoxious than it would have been half an hour earlier. What had once been a remarkable facility had been transformed, a massive chunk missing from its side, the Isodyne Laboratory was destroyed along with a lot of evidence but that was the furthest thing from anyone’s mind at that moment.  
Emergency service vehicles were stationed around the wreckage, every face wearing the same expression. As the trio careened their necks trying to glimpse a sight of Peggy, a paramedic walked back to his Ambulance crew and shook his head at the three of them.  
“Don’t bother. There’s no way anyone survived that.” His tone sounded almost sympathetic as he climbed back into his ambulance to leave and it felt as if a balloon was deflating inside of Isabelle. Peggy had to be okay, if she willed it hard enough perhaps it would be true.  
Perhaps she had done something good in her life because her prayers were answered and Isabelle couldn’t stop the sigh of relief that escaped her lips when she spotted a dark-haired woman in a purple dress walk away from a group of police officers. Isabelle and Sousa rushed over to the Brit who rapidly began giving a sit rep, she was reeling in shock and it took a great deal of restraint not to embrace her right there at the crime scene. 

Watching as Jarvis opened the car door for Peggy, ready to take her home Isabelle felt a surge of gratitude towards the butler; she knew no matter what he would be there for Peggy to help her grieve. Turning back to the ruin of Isodyne, Isabelle knew that her night was just beginning.

Pulling her hair back into a ponytail, Isabelle headed towards the wreckage carefully negotiating the rubble, her mind recalling what Peggy had said: ‘highly volatile unregistered scientific discovery,’ that is what had caused the explosion most definitely. Every step forward brought a new mystery, she wished that Doctor Wilkes had shared more information before the blast killed him, it would be nice to know more about what they were dealing with. As Sousa and Isabelle entered the epicentre of the blast, she paused to take a glance around. The crater that had been left was peculiar, everything about this case was peculiar, but there was something she couldn’t put her finger on. Isabelle stood sending out a gentle quake to get the feel of what was left behind in the rubble when a pounding began in her head, as if her brain were being used as a trampoline. Wincing as a trickle of blood ran down her face from her nose, she stopped using her powers and went to take a closer look at what had caused the reverberations in her head. Crouching down she examined a smashed container on the ground and testing her theory she sent a miniscule pulse at it which restarted the racket in her head.  
Sousa spotted Isabelle kneeling on the floor wiping blood from her face. “Isabelle? You okay?”  
Hearing Sousa’s voice laced with concern she turned looking over her shoulder. “I’m fine. Think I found the container for whatever caused the explosion. And I have no idea what it is.”  
Glancing around once more, the weight of the investigation registered. Whatever Isodyne were hiding was dangerous, without a shadow of a doubt, and evidently, they weren’t afraid to kill to cover it up. It was impossible not to consider the possibility that the body count would stack up before the case was closed.


End file.
